Second Chances
by Emily Waters
Summary: The war is over. Everyone who fought on the wrong side gets a second chance, whether they like it or not.
1. Prologue

**Title**: A Lullaby for the Changeling

**Authors**: Emily Waters, strega verde

**Beta**: whitehound

**Genre**: Gen, drama

**Characters**: Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, OMC, OFC

**Summary**: The war is over. Everyone who fought on the wrong side gets a second chance, whether they like it or not.

**Story details:** This story is already finished, I'll be posting it about a chapter per week. This story (complete) is available in Russian on snapetales. com. 

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o **

**Second Chances or A Lullaby for the Changeling**

_Then, oh, Lord, remove us from the face of the earth and create us anew, make us better men this time, more perfect beings._

_Brothers Strugatsky, "Hard to be a God"_

**Prologue**

She woke up to the sound of a child crying. Somewhere at their doorstep an infant was howling, screeching in bloody terror. Next to her, Ron stirred in his sleep and mumbled something incoherent. The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Hermione said. She reached for the wand on her bedside table and cast a Lumos spell. Ron opened his eyes and sat up in bed.

The doorbell rang again. The child continued to cry.

They shuffled to the door side by side, Ron stepping in front of Hermione to open the door, his wand drawn.

In front of them stood Neville, his arms outstretched, holding a howling baby in front of him.

The baby. Hermione couldn't bring herself to call it – her – by her real name, even in her thoughts.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, lowering his wand and stepping aside to let Neville in.

Neville held the child as if it were an inanimate object. For a second Hermione feared he might just drop the baby on the floor, but Neville simply deposited his burden into Hermione's arms.

She received the baby automatically and held her up, rocking her. The screaming continued, the soothing motion making no difference at all.

"She won't fucking stop crying," Neville said numbly. He didn't make a move to go inside.

"That's what babies do, Neville," Ron said, short on patience. "They pretty much just cry and eat and crap. Then they grow up and start getting into real mischief."

"I want no part of this," Neville muttered, taking a step back. "I can't handle it."

"And we can?" Hermione snapped. The baby shrieked. "Neville, this isn't good." She shifted the baby in her arms, finally finding a position that seemed to work. The shrieking died down, replaced with pitiful whimpering. Carefully, as if barely trusting herself, Hermione stroked the child's head, sorting through the wisps of dark hair. It felt soft to the touch.

"Well, come in. Let's talk," she said, rocking the infant in her arms.

"There's nothing to talk about," Neville said, but followed her and Ron into the kitchen, the door shutting behind them.

Hermione sat down, careful not to disturb the infant who had finally quieted down.

Ron searched the cupboards, getting out the bottle of firewhisky and pouring it into three glasses.

Neville took one glass and drained it in a single quick gulp.

"I don't understand," Hermione mused. "You seemed to know what you were getting yourself into when you took her. You and Hanna both. I heard you speak at the adoption hearing. You wanted to help set things right, you wanted to be kind to her..."

Neville's face contorted with rage. "I did want to set things right," he whispered. "But I didn't take her to be kind to her."

Instinctively, Hermione held the child closer. "You meant to hurt her."

"Yes," Neville admitted. "I must have gone completely mental but yes, I did. It was so easy to lie there, to say all the right things. And they let me take her." Neville paused, cradling the empty glass in his hands. "They should have listened to you. You were just about the only one who was warning them that some people might want to adopt for wrong reasons. Like revenge. Pity they don't listen to you, huh? But I guess even you couldn't have imagined I'd be one of those bad people you were so concerned about."

Hermione didn't' answer. Neville was right, she wouldn't have thought Neville capable of even considering something like that. But then again, grief did strange things to people, she knew that too.

"I could never hurt her, you know," Neville said softly, as if in response to Hermione's unspoken thoughts. "But I can't be the one raising her. I could never see her as just some child, you know? I'll always know who she is. She gives me the creeps, to be honest. And she never – never bloody-well stops crying."

"Then you should take her to Family Services," Ron said abruptly, cutting Neville off in mid-sentence. "You aren't the only one with problems, Neville. Hermione's still having nightmares about the Manor – and you bring this to our home? Come on! Is this even legal, dumping her on our doorstep like this?"

"Huh?" Neville winced at the mention of Hermione's nightmares. "Uh. Yeah, it's legal. I looked it up. Private adoption is fine. I mean – if you two are willing, that is."

Hermione's hands shook slightly as the baby settled against her and went to sleep. "I don't know, this isn't exactly... I mean... I don't know." She was stammering, barely able to string two words together. "Oh, come on, this isn't fair!" she lamented. "Why us? Why didn't you just take her to back to the Ministry, Neville?"

"She's just a baby. I guess I was worried she'd end up going to..." Neville shrugged helplessly. "Well, to someone like me. At least I know, if you decide to keep her, you'll be good to her. Or find someone else who will be." Neville got up. "Look, I'm really sorry about this..."

"Don't be," Hermione said softly. "Just go home, Neville. You did the right thing in the end, and that's what matters. We'll take it from here."

"Will we?" Ron demanded. "I didn't agree to this. Hermione! We don't have any... baby stuff."

That was putting it mildly. They lacked more than just the "baby stuff" - they were nowhere near being ready to start a family. They were both still in school, living off a modest stipend provided by the Ministry of Magic and working on completing their seventh year at Hogwarts.

The house they were living in wasn't theirs, needless to say. It belonged to Bill, given to him by Gringotts as an employment perk. Fleur wasn't impressed with the house: it was too small, the kitchen was too cramped, and the horribly neglected garden was overrun by harmless but numerous magical vermin. Bill, on his part, was too enamored with Fleur to argue about something like this. As a result, Hermione and Ron were allowed to take over the house rent-free. They were comfortable enough for now – as long as it was just the two of them.

Which was about to change. Hermione already knew that, even if Ron was still in denial.

"It's okay," she said. "We can buy everything in the morning."

"You've got school in the morning!" Ron's voice rose by a few notches, but Hermione waved at him to shush him.

"Not anymore, I haven't."

Neville shook his head miserably. "Sorry again. What a fucking mess."

Hermione was inclined to agree with him, but Neville's misery was almost palpable and she didn't want to add to it.

It was strange, that she'd make a decision like that in a matter of mere minutes. Hermione Granger was too rational to believe in fate, but somehow, she always had a sense that everyone had to play with the cards they were given. This child was the hand they were dealt. They had the right to refuse, and nobody would think less of them if they did... but somehow, doing so felt like cheating.

"It's okay," she heard herself say, looking at the child, sound asleep in her arms, and almost believing that somehow, they'd manage.

"By the way," Ron asked, his voice tense, "Did you give her a new name?"

Neville shook his head. "No." Seeing the surprise on Ron's face, he added. "I couldn't... Didn't feel right. Look, she doesn't have herself, or her memories anymore. Her name's the only thing she's got left."

"Mm," Hermione mused. "Yeah, I guess it makes sense."

She could feel a dull ache in her chest, as the child's name was about to fall from her lips.

"Welcome home," she murmured, "Bellatrix."

**To Be Continued...**


	2. Severed Dreams

**Severed Dreams**

The war was over; only the dreams remained.

If not for the dreams, Severus could have easily come to believe that there had been no war at all. The mad running about back in Hogwarts, the helpless attempts to rescue someone or change something – all of that now seemed ridiculous, unreal. Severus could barely feel the scars on his throat, when, lying on his back, he lifted his hand to touch the two tiny raised marks.

Somewhere beyond the walls of his solitary confinement cell life went on. The first summer after the war was long over now. Severus was almost certain of it, but not completely – he'd lost count of the days. After all, his days were all the same: filled with nothing. There were no books, no letters, no visitors.

For a while he thought he was forgotten. Then, one evening, an insane thought entered his mind: what if there was nothing to forget? What if all that he remembered was nothing but fantasy, a false memory, a desperate attempt of a human brain to make sense of an empty life?

"I must be going mad," Severus muttered and instantly remembered why he'd given up on talking to himself: his own voice seemed like it belonged to a stranger.

It was odd, but he'd come to almost welcome the nighttime. Falling asleep, just in the corner of his vision he could see Nagini, poised to strike. He could hear the echoes of the Dark Lord's voice and buried his face in the pillow, numb with cold terror. Still, those terror-filled waking dreams brought a small measure of relief with them: _that_had been real, that really did happen; his past wouldn't be forgotten or erased.

The door to his cell opened with a loud squeak. _Was it morning already_, Severus wondered idly. Mornings always came too quickly and unexpectedly.

"Get up. Time to go," the guard said.

Severus didn't open his eyes.

"Go where?" he heard himself ask..

"Does it really matter?" the guard's voice was heavy with irony.

Severus snorted under his breath. It really didn't.

He rose to his feet, wrapped the robe tightly around himself and followed the guard out.

The empty prison hallways seemed enormous. The irrational fear assaulted – the fear of being lost. More than anything, Severus wanted to run back to the familiar dubious comfort of his tiny cell, throw himself on the bed, bite into the pillow and wait for another night.

Severus straightened out, held his head high and hastened his pace.

**o-o-o-o-o**

In the brightly lit spacious room, four people waited for him. Severus cringed when he saw Potter, Granger and Weasley seated together at the round table. Next to them was a tall woman Severus didn't recognize. She had a pile of parchments in front of her that she was reviewing, without looking at anyone.

The three former students had grown taller and leaner since Severus last saw them. Granger looked rough – there were dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was a pitiful mess. She lifted her head and gave him an uncharacteristically timid smile.

Severus looked at Potter, who grinned from ear to ear when their eyes met.

"Professor Snape!" There was idiotic, although quite genuine delight in Potter's voice that instantly made Severus want to choke him.

"How long has it been?" Severus demanded by way of greeting.

The grin faded from Potter's face, replaced by a guilty expression.

"Uh. It's February."

"February," Severus muttered. So he'd been in solitary confinement for something close to a year. The desire to choke Potter was growing. "I see you were in no hurry to testify on my behalf. Too busy enjoying the celebrity status, are we, Mister Potter?"

Potter didn't answer, just bit his lip, looking sullen and defiant.

"Why don't you sit down," the woman spoke for the first time. Severus stared at her. She was about McGonagall's age, and just as thin, her hair touched by grey.

"And who would you be?" Severus demanded.

"I would be Emma Wild with the Department of Justice. Why don't you sit down? You're making me nervous, hovering over us like that." The wrinkles fanning out from the corners of her eyes made her look like she was about to smile – but she didn't.

Severus snorted and pulled up an empty chair, making a point to move it as far away from the rest of the group as the table allowed.

"All right," Wild spoke, seeming undisturbed by Severus' antisocial behavior. "I'll get to the point. Yours is an interesting case, Mister Snape. About half the people in the Wizengamot want to see you dead and will not take no for an answer. The other half demand that you be awarded the Order of Merlin first class. I've been ordered to find a compromise." Wild lifted her head and stared directly at Severus who held her gaze without looking away.

"Well, you could have me killed and award the Order of Merlin posthumously," Severus offered dryly. "Then everyone will be happy."

"Don't think I haven't considered it," Wild replied, unamused. "At any rate, I've drafted a proposal." She slid a parchment across the table towards Severus. "You will not go to trial. You will voluntarily make a full confession, admitting your guilt. In exchange, you will be given amnesty for your activities as a Death Eater. For the next two years, you'll be on probation: the said amnesty is conditional on your good behavior. Should you engage in any criminal activity, the amnesty will be revoked. You will be summarily convicted of war crimes and sentenced to..." Wild didn't get a chance to finish speaking – Severus laughed in her face.

"You ought to be joking," Severus said, putting all the venom he could muster into his words. "Amnesty? You're giving me a bloody amnesty to compensate me for seven years of hell? And what, precisely, would you have me confess? That watching over the arrogant, spoilt imbecile for seven years was a bad move on my part?" Severus noticed with a measure of satisfaction that Potter's eyes flashed with anger. He fully expected Potter to take the bait. But, somehow, Potter managed to keep his temper in check. Pity, Severus thought, he'd have enjoyed seeing Potter throw a tantrum.

Wild let out a deep sigh.

"No," Severus said with a shake of his head. "I do not accept your offer. I'll take my chances at the trial."

"You will not be acquitted if it goes to trial," Wild said bluntly.

"I thought you said that half the Wizengamot want to acquit me?"

"True," Wild conceded, "but it's the half who want you dead who are running the show. No, I assure you, if it goes to trial, you will be convicted."

Severus didn't blink.

"So be it," he said, resolved not to be bullied into accepting a deal like that. Certainly, not in front of Potter.

Across the table from him Hermione shifted in her seat. "We had a feeling you'd want to take a chance. That's why we were delaying so long," Hermione blurted out those words desperately, giving Severus a wary glance, as if bracing herself for verbal slaughter. "We were delaying because we wanted to wait for the Ministry to replace the Dementor's Kiss with something else. At least now, if things don't go well at the trial..." she stammered and sniffled miserably. "Well... the new death penalty isn't as bad."

"It's not a death penalty," Wild cut her off in mid-sentence. "Second Chances is a re-parenting program."

"Calling it by a pretty name isn't going to change what it is," Hermione snapped, sounding at her wits' end.

"I'm surprised to hear you say that," Wild said. "Perhaps, since you're so opposed to the program, your own family arrangement should come under scrutiny."

Hermione paled slightly and clenched her fists. For a long moment she looked like she was about to say something nasty, but Ron rested his hand on her shoulder in warning.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said quietly, looking away. "Of course, it's a wonderful program. Not a death penalty at all."

"What's going on?" Severus demanded. A small nasty trickle of fear was running down his spine. Granger's reaction suggested that, while he was out of touch with the rest of the world, the Ministry, in their infinite stupidity, managed to outdo themselves, once again. As if the Dementor's Kiss wasn't bad enough...

"Those who supported Voldemort in the war had been sentenced to de-aging and removal of all memories," Wild explained matter-of-factly. "A new potion was developed – it makes it possible to safely and permanently revert a human subject to infant age. While the subject grows younger, a skilled team of Legiliments work on removing all memories of the subject's former life. The infants then are placed with suitable couples who will raise them and nurture them to become healthy members of Wizarding society." There was genuine pride in Wild's voice, leading Severus to believe she had had something to do with establishing the said program. "We find it to be a humane and compassionate method of dealing with individuals who are otherwise untreatable and unmanageable. Phase one of the project began six months ago, and so far, has been a complete success." Wild's eyes fixed on Hermione, who looked lost and small, Ron's hand still resting on her shoulder. "Don't you agree, Mrs. Granger-Weasley?"

"Of course," Hermione echoed in a dead tone of voice. "Very humane and compassionate."

"I see," Severus whispered. The news took him by surprise. For a moment he didn't know what to say, or even think. When the first words emerged from his mouth, it was Lucius' and Narcissa's names.

Hermione winced.

"Lucius was placed with some couple in Scotland," Potter said. Severus privately thought that looking guilty suited him. "I lost track of Narcissa – her new parents didn't want to stay in touch..." He gave Severus a quick, miserable glance. "Look, I'm sorry – she saved my life and all, I really didn't want this to happen to her. I tried my best..."

"Frankly, your best doesn't seem to be any good at all," Severus said icily, drawing some sort of sick enjoyment from berating Potter. To Severus' satisfaction, Potter paled slightly but didn't say anything in response.

"What about Draco?" Severus asked, immediately wondering how his favorite former student took the news of losing his parents. "Is he all right?"

"Draco Malfoy and some other former Hogwarts students are under house arrest," Wild said. "At first, we were not certain that the de-aging program was an appropriate measure for them as well, but seeing how successful phase one was..."

Hermione bolted to sit up straight, her expression shocked. Potter and Weasley appeared just as stunned – it seemed that they hadn't expected that sort of thing to be done to their former classmates.

"You wouldn't," Hermione whispered. "That's not right. They've made some terrible mistakes, but they're nothing like their parents or other Death Eaters. They don't deserve to be just... erased."

"Besides, where are you going to stop?" Harry demanded, joining Hermione in her protests. "How long until you're just de-aging everyone who becomes a nuisance?"

Severus watched the exchange with a sort of distant fascination, observing Wild's reaction. She seemed untroubled.

"Look, this is an very interesting debate, but this isn't the proper forum for it – and I haven't got all day," Wild spoke, dismissing the questions raised by Granger and Potter. "You know your options, Mister Snape. What will it be? Will you accept the amnesty, or shall we take this to trial?"

Severus remained silent. He hated caving in, but the thought of losing all his memories, miserable as they were, filled him with irrational, primeval horror. Maybe that's how the prehistoric men felt when they first saw fire – the unknown force that had the power to reduce you to nothing.

Wild stared at him with cool indifference. "Believe it or not, I'm actually on your side," she said dryly. "I have no desire to see this sort of thing happen to you – and it doesn't need to." She nodded to the scroll of parchment, still lying on the table before Severus. "It's a good offer, Mister Snape. I think you should take it."

"This is an outrage," Severus said stubbornly. "I was on your side. I did what was necessary to win the war."

"Maybe," she said with a small shrug. "Still, all actions have consequences. You, of all people, must understand that. If you really and truly believe in what you did, you must be willing to pay the price, too."

Severus nodded absently, but still couldn't bring himself to touch the scroll of parchment, lying on the table before him.

He didn't want to agree. For a brief, insane moment he considered refusing and letting it all go, once and for all. He'd already lost more than was left, he thought bitterly. He barely recognized himself or his own voice. But he no longer felt he had the luxury of giving in – not while Draco and some others were still alive, their fate so uncertain.

"It's a good offer," Wild repeated. "More to the point, it's the only one I've got."

"Well then," Severus heard himself say. "I suppose I should accept it."

**o-o-o-o-o**

He returned to his cell and fell on the bed face down, still unable to believe that soon it'd be all over. A few days, Wild had said, to process the paperwork and he'd get out. He'd return to his former life, he'd be just one of the normal people that the world was filled with.

Or could someone with his sort of memories ever be truly _normal_?

Instinctively he lifted his hand and touched the side of his throat. His mind wandered, all the way back to Malfoy Manor.

Ah yes, one of those war crimes that he'd have to confess to – accessory to murder...

**o-o-o-o-o**

He'd kept his face impassive and watched in silence while Nagini fed on the lifeless remnants of what used to be Charity Burbage.

_It seemed to go on forever, the feeding and the watching..._.

_At some point Severus realized it was over. The Dark Lord and the others took their leave. Even Draco came to and left without looking at anyone. The serpent was gone, too. Still, Lucius lingered, as if he'd suddenly forgotten how to walk. Or maybe it was just that he didn't have anywhere to go, Severus thought suddenly._

_"This is insane. I had no idea," Lucius whispered. Severus stood by his side, waiting. "I had no idea it'd be like this."_

_"What did you think it was going to be like, Lucius?" Severus asked dryly, not feeling much sympathy for the head of the Malfoy household. The table in front of them was empty, but the polished surface of it still held smudges of human blood._

_Madness flashed in Lucius' eyes. He gripped Severus' hand desperately._

_"I've got a safe house in France. I need a port-key. Just in case. Get one commissioned. I'll pay a great deal for it."_

_"Where are you going to keep it?" Severus asked neutrally. It was no idle question: with the Dark Lord having the run of the Manor, no place within its walls was truly safe._

_Shoulder to shoulder they walked out of the sitting room, and headed down the dimly lit hallway._

_"I have a place," Lucius voice was barely audible. "Come with me."_

**o-o-o-o-o**_  
><em>

Severus groaned quietly, burying his face in the pillow. The memory made him ache for Narcissa and Lucius, and that surprised him. He didn't exactly consider them friends – but they had been a part of his life, a life now being erased all around him. The world he used to know was disappearing, and he wasn't entirely certain what part of it he could still hold on to.

Severus fell asleep quickly. He didn't dream.


	3. Need to Know

**Need to Know **

They came for him on the third day. He wasn't excited about getting out, just restless and irritated about having had to wait. Perhaps it was a good thing that they didn't award him the Order of Merlin or any other bloody thing like that, he thought, disgruntled. From the new world that had emerged in his absence, he wanted nothing.

The Processing Centre by the prison gate was another brightly lit giant room that made him dizzy. The irrational fear of being just a small speck in the vastness of space gripped him and wouldn't let go. He wondered idly how long it'd take him to get used to open spaces again. For now, he felt like an animal, who, even though being released into the wild, still couldn't bear to forget the confines of his old cage.

Potter was absent, but Granger and Weasley were standing aside, keeping a respectable distance, while Emma Wild was lecturing him, explaining the conditions of his release. Severus nodded to her from time to time, probably unnecessarily. He signed some papers without reading them and received his wand, tucking it safely into his pocket. Wild stared at him with obvious disapproval.

"Did you even hear a word I said?" she demanded.

"Not really, no."

"Well then, we'll have to rely on your common sense. Remember – engage in any criminal activity and you forfeit your amnesty."

Severus twitched. "Yes, very good. By the way, you've mentioned that Draco Malfoy is under house arrest. Where, exactly, is he?"

Wild shook her head. "That's on a need to know basis and you don't."

"Ah. I thought you'd say that."

Severus walked away from her and approached Weasley and Granger, who each gave him a strained smile.

He was mildly irked that not a single former colleague or member of the Order saw fit to meet him, but hardly surprised by that development after nearly a year of solitary confinement. Still, Severus found himself irrationally peeved by Potter's absence.

"I see Potter didn't see the need to show up. I imagine he did his quota of charity for the week."

Hermione's smile grew slightly bigger. "He didn't want to antagonize you. He sent us instead, he said you... seem to hate us less."

Severus snorted. "How stunningly perceptive. Where's Draco Malfoy?" he cut right to the chase. "I heard he's under house arrest somewhere, but at what location?"

"I don't know," Ron said.

"Harry probably does," Hermione offered hesitantly. "He's been working on trying to get him and the other Slytherins acquitted..."

Severus snorted, but said nothing: his contempt for Potter's efforts and inability to achieve results required no words. Hermione flushed and looked away.

"And where is he now?" Severus asked in a more or less neutral tone of voice.

"Our place. Watching the baby," Hermione said softly. "Would you like to come along? You can ask him yourself."

Severus gave a resigned sigh at that. The idea of a social visit to Granger and Weasley's house was only slightly more appealing than the months of isolation now behind him. The mention of the baby irritated him as well – yet another reminder that his own life had stood still, while others – those he'd worked to save – went on with their lives, happily mating and breeding.

Still, he imagined there was no sense in delaying seeing Potter – he wasn't certain how much time Draco and the others had left.

Once outside the prison gates, Severus was made dizzy by the sight of the vast plains stretching out before him. For a moment, it felt like both ground and sky were fleeing him at lightning-fast speed to merge somewhere on the horizon.

He could see Granger's lips moving but couldn't hear her. The empty space all around him was drowning out the sound. It seemed almost inhuman that anyone should endure that much openness and still live.

He squeezed his eyes shut, allowing the disorientation to pass.

"Granger, did you say something?"

"I said we need to Apparate to London," she answered. "You're coming with us, aren't you?"

* * *

It was only once he was inside the Weasleys' home that Severus found himself able to breathe easy. He only hoped his relief at being inside, rather than outside, wouldn't be too obvious. Harry greeted them at the door with his usual cheery grin that made Severus cringe. If Harry was surprised to see him, he gave no sign of it.

"Where's Draco Malfoy?" Severus demanded instantly by way of greeting.

"Well, hello to you too," Harry said wryly, stepping aside to allow them in. "The baby is finally asleep."

"You're a miracle worker," Hermione said, smiling brightly. "Was it okay for you... I mean..."

"What?" For a second Harry seemed confused. "Oh, that. Yes, it's fine. She's just another baby, you know."

"I asked you a question, Potter," Severus snapped, irritated by the inane chatter that followed their arrival. "How many times do I need to repeat myself for it to finally sink in?"

Startled, Harry turned to him. "Uh yes. Draco, Goyle, Nott, and Flint are under house arrest. Sort of."

"I know that," Severus cut him off in mid-sentence. "Location?"

"I'm not supposed to say," Harry muttered. Severus stared at him. "Malfoy manor," Harry said, resigned. "You know, it's kind of ghoulish... but with Lucius and Narcissa gone, the Ministry just sort of... turned it into an improvised detention facility. They said it'd be a kind thing, to allow the young people to wait for their trial in relative comfort." Potter's tone was doubtful, as if he wasn't putting much stock in the Ministry's kindness.

The whole affair seemed rather morbid, Severus privately thought – especially towards Draco, who was left in the family home, now bereft of his parents. Hermione seemed to have had the same reaction, her face paling slightly at Harry's words.

"And the rest?" Severus demanded.

"The others got out of the country right after the war," Hermione piped up. "Some went to Australia, some – to North America. The wizarding communities there spoke out against the de-aging program, it's safe there."

Severus nodded, thankful for at least this small measure of good fortune. "I'd like to see them."

"I can't arrange that," Harry said apologetically. "I mean, even I can't get to see them. It's pretty heavily guarded. I guess now I understand why," he added bitterly, "the whole Phase Two thing... it's rather extreme. I never thought they'd want to use de-aging on Draco and the others, too."

"Maybe we should make the news public," Ron said.

"_We__?_" Hermione snapped. "Ron, have you gone mad? If Wild finds out we're trying to interfere..."

A child's crying interrupted her and Hermione let out a deep sigh. "I'll go get her. Ron, get the bottle ready, will you?" She glanced at Severus, whose sour expression at being sidetracked again did not escape her. "Sorry," she said. "It'll just be a minute. Well, come in, Professor, make yourself comfortable."

Severus followed her to the sitting room, but no further. He sat down on the couch and waited for Hermione to return with her offspring.

When Hermione emerged from the bedroom with the baby in her arms, for a while Severus simply stared at the child, who looked nothing like Ron or Hermione. Severus was the type of person, to whom all babies looked alike – but _this _one seemed familiar somehow. It didn't take him long to recall where he might have seen a child like that: the little girl in Hermione's arms looked just like Bellatrix – Severus had seen a picture of Narcissa and her sister back at Malfoy manor. He shook his head, and the clear _this can't be _must have been written on his face for Hermione to read, because she gave him a wary smile.

"Bellatrix?" Severus whispered.

"Uh-huh."

"How on earth did she end up with you two?" Severus found his voice rising slightly and Hermione shook her head.

"Quiet, don't startle her. It's kind of a long story."

When it became clear that the long story wasn't forthcoming, Severus reached out for the baby's hand.

"This is insane," Severus said, his fingers barely touching the child's tiny palm. Hermione didn't argue.

"Would you like to hold her?" she offered hesitantly, as if expecting to be rebuffed.

"Me? Well. All right. Fine."

The child was placed in his arms and he held her awkwardly, afraid to do something wrong. In his hands, little Bellatrix stilled and stared at him with her eyes wide open. For a second, Severus thought she might have recognized him, but dismissed the idea.

He rested the child in his lap, cradling her head in the crook of his arm. Still focused on him, she lifted her hand to reach for his. The sleeve of her tiny shirt fell down, revealing something on her left forearm that left Severus short of breath.

He stared at it. The image of the skull and serpent grew fainter and smaller but didn't change shape or form. Hermione intercepted his gaze.

"They couldn't remove it," she said.

Severus bowed his head. There was an air of unreality to this: dozens of infants scattered around Britain, all with Dark Marks on their arms. Wild and her associates could say what they would: these infants would never be "just children" - not in the eyes of those raising them, and not in their own eyes.

"How will you explain it to her when she grows up?" Severus asked, still staring. "Will you tell her the truth or come up with some pretty story?"

"It's illegal for anyone to discuss the past of the de-aged with them," Hermione explained. Her voice shook as she did. "All adoptive parents took an oath to that effect. The oath informs the Ministry if we break that promise. The children would be taken away, the parents face imprisonment." Another sad glance followed. "I suppose we'll have to settle for a pretty story."

"Everybody needs to know where they came from," Severus pointed out ruthlessly. "It's their right." Granger flinched visibly at his words, and he almost hated being cruel to her by continuing. "Granger, listen to me. What will you do when, fifteen years from now, your daughter looks in the mirror and sees Bellatrix Lestrange from the history books staring back at her?"

Hermione sighed deeply. "They've already begun to rewrite history. Remove all mention of individuals from books. Remove old newspapers from the archives. It's a time-consuming task, but I imagine, by the time she grows up, they'll be all done."

Severus wanted to say something else – but Harry entered the room, followed by Ron who brought the baby bottle that Hermione received from him and proceeded to feed the infant.

"You know, Ron is right," Harry said. "If we make the news public, there will be some backlash. The people were mostly okay with the Death Eaters being de-aged, uh, no offence, Professor," Harry gave him a sheepish look, "but this thing with Draco and others is just too much. I think if we made it public, the Ministry would back off on Phase Two."

"Or you'd force their hand to act sooner, before the public has a chance to react," Hermione pointed out. "Or worse, say you make it public and people support it?"

"So what are you proposing? We're out of options here," Harry snapped, impatient. "What do we do, raid the manor, break them out, and ship them off to South America?"

Severus gave him a long, calculating look. Potter's eyes widened.

"Hermione and Ron can't get involved," Harry said quickly. "For the record, I'm not too thrilled about taking up arms against my own people, either."

Severus almost wanted to offer a spiteful remark, saying he had no such reservations, but decided it wasn't the best time to express such sentiments.

"It doesn't need to come to that," he said instead in a neutral tone of voice. Harry gave him a quizzical look and nodded to him to continue. Severus did, slightly disgusted by the fact that he was now proposing an action requiring Potter's participation. "There's an underground tunnel, connecting the manor-house and the grove just outside of the manor's anti-apparition boundary. The tunnel has a secret vault where Lucius kept a Portkey in case of emergency. Nobody knew about it except the two of us."

"Portkey to where?" Potter asked at once.

"A safe enough place for all of us, at least as a transfer point to Australia – or wherever. All I need is a way to disable the Ministry's wards for fifteen to twenty minutes. We'd be in and out of there before anyone knew what happened."

"Huh." Potter stared at him dubiously. "I don't know. Are you sure we could do this without any of our own people getting hurt?"

Severus resisted the urge to shake him.

"No, Potter, I'm insidiously planning to slaughter all Ministry personnel and lay waste to magical Britain. Of course I'm sure. Are you sure you could find someone skilled enough to disable the Ministry's wards?"

"Yes, I can find someone," Potter conceded. He sat quietly for a minute, absorbed in his own thoughts. "Professor, you said 'a safe place for all of us' – you'll be leaving with them, then?" Potter appeared to be troubled by the prospect.

"Yes. Let me know when you're ready. Good day," Severus gave Hermione and Ron a curt nod and headed to the doors. To his surprise, Potter followed him out.

Severus paused in his steps when the door swung shut behind them.

"It's a shame you'll be leaving," Harry said quietly. Severus twitched at the sound of his voice, but Harry didn't seem to notice. "Look, I know we didn't exactly get along..." Harry stammered, because Severus issued a rather rude noise in response to those words. "But it didn't have to be this way."

Severus shrugged indifferently. "Potter, we didn't get along, as you put it, not because of some sinister machinations of fate. We didn't get along because I don't like you. That's not going to change."

"I'm not trying to get you to like me!" Potter snapped, irritated. "I just thought we could talk."

"You thought wrong," Severus said. "Contact me when you've got your wards expert and no sooner."

When Snape was gone, presumably Apparating back to Spinner's End, Harry re-entered Hermione's and Ron's house. He must have looked truly miserable, because Ron gave him a sympathetic grin.

"I can't bloody believe it," Harry complained. "Every time he talks to me, he manages to make me feel like shit."

"Well, what did you expect?" Hermione asked reasonably. "Did you think you'd become friends?"

Harry shrugged, irked by her question. "No, nothing that drastic. I don't know. Never mind."

"Well, look at the bright side," Ron said, grinning. "Soon, he'll be on his merry way to Australia, and you'll be Snape-free once and for all."

"Yes, thank heavens for that," Harry muttered, almost meaning it.

Hermione spoke up then, words coming out in a rush, as if she was anticipating being interrupted.

"So you need someone who's really really good with wards, and someone you can trust. How are you going to find someone on such a short notice? Maybe you should reconsider, this is too risky... At the very least, Ron and I should come with you!"

"It's not that risky," Harry waved her off, feeling slightly amused by her trying to manage everything, as always. "Hermione, just relax. It'll be fine. I've got it."


	4. The Tunnel and the Portkey

**The Tunnel and the Portkey **

Potter took his sweet time contacting him; on his fourth day of waiting at Spinner's End, Severus began to wonder if recruiting a wards specialist turned out to be too difficult a task. But an owl arrived, carrying a letter with Potter's home address (4 Angle Street - which seemed familiar for some reason), the time of meeting, and not a word more. With little to be thankful for, Severus was thankful for this brevity. He burned the letter and left his house.

Once outside, Severus cast a quick parting glance around his neighborhood. He almost dreaded lifting his head, for fear of another onslaught of agoraphobia. But the heavy clouds hung low, creating an illusion of the world being smaller. Just another cell, nothing more.

Absently, he scratched the door with his fingernail. A small flake of dry paint peeled from the wooden surface and fell on the ground. He didn't think he'd miss any of it: the peeling paint, the brick houses, or the graveyard with his parents' name on the tombstones. Still, for some reason he was delaying, making sure the windows were closed, the door locked – it somehow bothered him to leave the house in disarray, even though he was certain he wouldn't come back to it anytime soon.

**o-o-o**

It turned out that the address in Potter's letter seemed familiar to Severus for a good reason. 4 Angle Street used to be a drug store of questionable reputation; nothing special: merely a place to purchase some potions ingredients under-the-counter.

Angle Street looked different now. The stone sett paving was well swept and newly forged street lanterns had been placed along the side of the road. The dreary old drug store was gone, a new, cozy book shop replacing it.

The entrance to Potter's flat, it turned out, was inside: a windy staircase, hid at the very end of the bookshop. He confirmed with the shop owner, a tall curly-haired young bloke, that the staircase indeed led to Potter's residence. Severus looked around the shop, curious in spite of himself. The shop's name, "In Quarto", turned to to be more than just word-play: Severus noticed quite a few rare editions, including the magical version of Macbeth, which was different from the Muggle one in that it had the actual potion recipes included.

He ran his hand wistfully along the book spines on the "Contemporary Potion Science" shelf. The golden letters, impressed onto the leather-bound volumes, drew his gaze, and for a brief moment he nearly forgot why he was here. The smell of leather and parchment was in the air; the mild winter sun was streaming through the windows, gracing the books with its faint warmth.

Severus continued to browse. Then he turned his attention to the next shelf and shuddered in spite of himself. It seemed that the shop's inventory was updated continuously with most recent publications. "A Complete History of The Last Wizarding War: Now Fully Accurate" was a thick red volume; "All That You Need to Know About the Ministry of Magic" was a thin paperback brochure - presumably, a regular bloke didn't need to know a great deal; and finally, "The Reform of the Mind: New Ministry Programs", a small blue book authored by_ E. Wild_ herself.

Severus made a sour face and immediately felt the shop's owner's gaze on the back of his head. He turned around, shrugged and walked up the stairs, heading to Potter's flat.

**o-o-o**

Harry greeted him at the door with his usual cheery smile. Severus hoped he wouldn't have to endure it for much longer.

"Nice place, Potter," Severus said by way of greeting. "The books downstairs don't shrivel and die in your presence, I hope?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Harry muttered, leading the way inside. "Well, we're ready to go. I got us a team."

"A team," Severus spat, irritated that the entire endeavor was getting out of hand. "It's a job for two people. I don't need a team!" He stopped in his tracks when he saw Neville Longbottom at Potter's dining table. Longbottom gave him a small sullen nod that Severus didn't return. "Potter, for the love of everything that is holy, please tell me this isn't our wards expert."

"Ah, no, dear Severus, that would be me," the familiar elderly voice sounded as the door opened again. Severus turned around and stared down as Filius Flitwick made his entrance.

"Oh," Severus muttered, still staring at his former colleague and Professor. It hadn't occurred to him to consider Flitwick as potential candidate for this mission, although perhaps it should have. Flitwick's expertise was beyond reproach – the protective charms he'd set up around Hogwarts to hold Voldemort's advance held up admirably. And house differences aside, Flitwick cared deeply for his students – all of them.

Flitwick looked up and gave Severus a sunny smile, the wrinkles on the aged face accentuating it.

"I have to say this, I'm so – so sorry for not having been in touch all this time," Flitwick said. "It's been a troubled year for all of us at Hogwarts, as you can imagine."

Severus managed a sour smile of his own. "I suppose, with the way things are, you have to watch who you're seen associating with."

Flitwick inclined his head. "Minerva and I have resolved to do nothing to draw any unwanted attention to ourselves. The last thing we want is for the Ministry to sack us and replace us with their pawns. We've learned to pick our battles wisely, I'm sad to say."

Severus nodded slowly, appreciating all too well the fine line his former colleagues had to walk on the daily basis. Definitely, paying him a social visit during his imprisonment would have been just one of those unwise things. "How long can you keep this up?" he mused, not really expecting an answer.

Flitwick lifted his head and met Severus' gaze without looking away. "Eleven years from now, there will be some very unusual children arriving to Hogwarts," he said with surprising gentleness. "Minerva and I are hoping that at least one of us will be there to meet them."

Severus sighed, uncertain what to say to that. He rarely knew how to respond to people wanting to indulge in confidences with him, so he left the last of Flitwick's statement without comment. Instead, Severus turned his attention to Potter.

"Potter, what are you standing around for? Do you have a map of the Malfoy manor? No, of course you don't. Get me a quill and parchment, then."

The aforementioned stationery was produced a moment later. Severus sat at the dining table and began to scribble a crude representation of their target. "This is the manor house. This here," he dotted a wide circle around the rectangle, "is where the anti-apparition boundary ends. Apparition charms or Portkeys will not work within this perimeter. Are you following me, Potter?" He drew a few lines aside to the circle.

"What's this supposed to be?" Harry asked.

"The woods. The Enchanted Grove, to be exact."

"Your trees suck. Sir."

"Pay attention, Potter, you can colour the trees in your spare time. Now, an underground tunnel is here," he drew a straight line, connecting the 'manor-house' to the 'trees'. "The tunnel leads to a location in the grove, just outside of the apparition boundary. The vault with Lucius' Portkey is here," he placed a small dot on the line.

"Are you sure about this Portkey?" Potter asked doubtfully.

Severus paid him no heed. "Now, the Ministry has wards on the manor and the grounds. Do you know how far those wards extend?"

Potter shook his head miserably. "No, I didn't ask. I assume the setup is standard: the wards would cover the manor-house only. Ah, also, there are guards, patrolling the perimeter of the manor. As far as I know, they only go inside the house a few times a day, just to check on the detainees..." Potter sighed. "Sorry, I don't know the exact details. I'm not exactly privy to this information, I just heard things here and there."

Severus nodded curtly and rose to his feet. "Can you think of anything else, Potter? Anything at all?"

"No. Sorry."

"Then this will have to do. Very well, Professor Flitwick and I will be on our way then."

"We're all going!" Potter shot back hotly, leaping to stand up as well. "Neville and I are coming with you."

"Potter, you'll only get underfoot," Severus said, his patience growing shorter by the minute. "Your involvement is not required. And please, explain to me, what on earth possessed you to believe that Longbottom would be a help?"

Across the table from him, Longbottom flushed and looked away.

"What's your bloody problem?" Potter all but shouted, coming face to face with Severus. "Why do you have to be such a miserable prick about everything? Can't you – just for two measly hours – forget how much you can't stand me, so that we can get things done?"

"Harry!" Flitwick made an attempt to interject, seeming shocked by Potter's outburst. Severus just snorted under his breath. He suspected it was a rather petty and – miserable – thing, but he couldn't help but be satisfied by having provoked this little tantrum of Potter's.

"Look, er, Professors," Longbottom spoke up for the first time. "It might be that you won't need us, but it doesn't hurt to have a spare wand or two. I mean, what if we're wrong and there are guards inside the manor? We'll have a better chance if we act together."

Severus let out a resigned sigh. He suspected this type of argument could take hours, involve a great deal more screaming and still remain unresolved. He had no patience left for this sort of thing: he was eager to just get going. Besides – not that Severus would admit to it out loud – Lonbottom did have a valid point. There was no harm in having backup.

"Fine," Severus said. He grudgingly gave Longbottom a small nod and pointedly ignored Potter. "Come along then. Don't be a nuisance if you can help it."

**o-o-o**

They left Harry's flat together and took the spiraling staircase down to the book shop.

Snape walked first, while Flitwick and Neville followed him closely. Harry trailed behind, trying his best not to sulk too much over how badly everything was going already. He didn't mean to yell at Snape – if anything, he'd resolved to do his best and make peace with the man before they parted ways. But somehow, Snape continued to bring out the worst in him, as always.

They Apparated together to find themselves in the thick of the woods, formerly represented by the straight lines on Snape's drawing.

A bird screeched high above them, and a tree branch dropped on the ground. Startled, Harry looked around and searched for a hint of a path or a clearing, but found nothing of the sort.

Snape, however, seemed to know where he was going. Without a word to anyone he sped ahead. Passing Flitwick and Neville, Harry followed closely, which was no easy matter: Snape was tearing through the woods, forcing tree branches out of the way; they sprang back, smacking Harry heavily in the face. Harry had the distinct impression Snape was in no way bothered by that.

A few minutes later Snape stopped and lifted his hand in warning. Harry, Neville and Flitwick halted in their steps as well. They watched while Snape cast several spells to remove a complex network of charms and expose what was a rather large and fairly deep hole in the ground. The stone staircase led downwards, disappearing in the dark.

Harry made a move to go in first, but Snape, still saying nothing, shoved him aside unceremoniously and knelt by the staircase. Harry watched Snape's lips move while he cast some sort of nonverbal spell.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Testing the structural integrity of the bloody thing. Though, perhaps, your initial idea was better, Potter. Maybe you should run ahead of us all and see if the ceiling caves in on you." Snape's eyes sparked with malicious amusement.

Harry huffed indignantly. "You know, sir, I just have to ask. If you hate me so much – why did you even bother watching over me back in Hogwarts? Why not just let me bloody die?"

Slowly, Snape turned around and stared at Harry. Snape's lips twisted into an ugly sneer, revealing crooked teeth.

"I'm a misanthrope, Potter," Snape said evenly. "Keeping you alive is my small way of making the world worse."

There was less malice than usual in Snape's words this time, but somehow they stung more. Harry couldn't quite understand why. Maybe because there was a note of finality to them.

He bit his lip, careful not to let his face betray any emotion. Last thing he wanted was for Snape to make fun of him for being upset, on top of everything else.

"So," Harry mused, "I guess if everything goes well today, I won't see you again, ever?"

"Yes," Snape said.

"Fine," Harry muttered. "I think I can live with that."

**o-o-o**

The tunnel was narrow and they walked in a single file. Four Lumos lights swayed and shimmered in the dark.

Severus stopped when he reached the familiar niche in the tunnel wall. Potter, Flitwick and Longbottom came to a stop a few feet away from him and stared at him expectantly.

Severus located the vault without difficulty and rested his hand against the door of it.

"Well?" Potter asked. Severus barely looked in his direction. For a quick second irrational fear gripped him: that Lucius might have changed the password and hadn't let him know. Severus shook his head, casting those doubts away. No, Lucius wouldn't have. The password would work. The vault would open at his prompting - yes, just like that - and it certainly wouldn't be... empty.

Desperately and hurriedly Severus felt around the vault, exploring every irregularity of its walls, over and over again, even when it became abundantly clear that the coveted Portkey was not there.

"It's not here, is it?" Potter asked.

"No," Severus confessed. He couldn't understand how it came to be missing - why would Lucius have removed it without telling him? The most reasonable explanation was that Lucius had given the Portkey to Narcissa or Draco - but if that were the case, why didn't they use it? All of those questions took mere seconds to materialize, but no answers to them were forthcoming.

"We should turn back," Potter said. "I'll buy a Portkey to Australia or North America. We'll return in a few more days..."

"We may not have a few more days!" Severus nearly shouted at him. He knew that Potter was making sense – a regrettable amount of it - but he couldn't accept the thought of turning back now. Not when they were so close to the Manor.

"Well, we won't do them any good without the Portkey," Potter felt the need to point out.

"It's possible that Draco has it," Severus persisted, all too aware that he was grasping for straws, but unwilling to give up on the rescue mission now that they'd come this far.

"If he does, why didn't he use it to escape?" Potter continued to argue.

"Why would they be trying to escape? As far as they know, they'll get out of this with a slap on the wrist. They certainly don't know they'll be de-aged..."

"And what if they don't have the Portkey? Then we risk getting noticed by the Ministry for no good reason. And we may not get a second chance with this."

Flitwick cleared his throat meaningfully.

"Well, isn't it fortunate that at least once of us has a backup plan not involving some Portkey that might or might not be where it's supposed to be... "

Severus turned to him.

"Yes?" he asked in an embarrassingly brittle voice, almost fearing to hope after so many things had already gone wrong.

"Minerva has an old family house near Inverness," Flitwick explained. "Once we're out of the tunnel, you and your students should Apparate there. It's won't be safe to stay there for any extended length of time, but it'll serve you well as a transfer point. Take money and valuables and try to get out of the country as soon as possible." He reached into the pocket of his robe to produce four wands, each with a small scrap of parchment tied to it. "Spare wands for your students, along with directions."

Severus hands nearly shook when he received those four wands. But before he could open his mouth and offer a word of thanks, Flitwick tugged on his sleeve.

"I see you like my backup plan. Well, good, let's keep moving then – we don't have all day."

**o-o-o**

It took them about a quarter of an hour to reach the point where the tunnel connected with the manor. The same type of steep stone staircase led upwards. Flitwick lifted his hand in warning, urging everyone to stop.

Severus could see Potter shifting on his feet impatiently, while Flitwick talked. He wouldn't be able to take down the Ministry's wards, Flitwick explained, but he could add his own spell to them, tricking the wards to accept Potter and Severus as authorized personnel. Potter likely did not understand the significance of this, although Severus did: they had little time afforded to them, ten minutes, perhaps less.

**o-o-o**

They got inside the manor house shortly, and lifted the trap door to the kitchen area. Severus led the way through the darkened hallways; Potter walked quickly to keep up. The old Malfoy home hadn't changed much – it hadn't been ransacked or damaged. Still, it looked desolate – as if with Narcissa and Lucius gone, some spark of life had left the old walls as well.

They found Draco and the others in the main sitting room. Draco was half-asleep on the couch, curled into himself and hugging one of the cushions much like a small child would be holding a stuffed toy. Goyle sat in one of the armchairs, staring vacantly ahead. Flint and Nott were attempting a game of chess, but by the looks of it, neither had the passion or the concentration for it.

The entrance Severus and Potter made together jerked everyone gathered out of their benumbed state. Nott and Flint stared at Severus and Potter, the game of chess instantly forgotten. Draco bolted upright, his eyes wide open in disbelief. Goyle rose to his feet and walked to Severus at once, much like a lost pup looking for a new owner.

"Draco," Severus asked. "Do you have your father's Portkey?"

Draco shook his head mutely, still seeming like he couldn't believe his own eyes.

"Very well. No matter. You've got to get out of here," Severus told him. "They want to de-age you."

That alone was enough. They followed him as he knew they would.

On their way out, Severus gave out the wands and instructions.

His former students nodded in silence, questions were saved for later. The entire affair took less than five minutes. Flitwick's spell seemed to hold – no Aurors burst in, no alarms went off.

As the last of the group made it into the tunnel, the trap door shutting behind them, Severus finally allowed himself to believe that it would all work out.

**o-o-o**

Harry was a long way from expressing any sort of respect for Snape, but even he had to admit that the trust of his former classmates in the head of their house was remarkable. Harry himself didn't know any adult he'd follow into the unknown just like that, without any questions asked.

Snape's sharp voice put an end to Harry's brief ruminations.

"All right," Snape said. "Pick up the pace, everyone."

They walked through the tunnel, Harry and Snape leading the way, while Flitwick brought up the rear. A good ten minutes or so into their walk, Harry stared ahead as he saw a small light moving towards them.

A small chill ran down his spine. Harry stopped abruptly. Snape, apparently seeing the exact same thing, did as well.

"Full stop, everyone. It's seems our way of escape has been cut off."

"Shit," Draco's voice said from somewhere behind them.

"We should head back," Goyle said uncertainly.

"Absolutely not." Snape's tone was cold and sharp, allowing no objections. "Our only hope is to charge them, throw them off balance and get out of here. All right, everyone, regroup. Flitwick, you will lead the way, charge them, do something – I don't care what. The rest of you, take advantage of the mayhem, get out of the tunnel and Apparate away. I will be watching your backs, in case we're being followed, which wouldn't surprise me. Everything clear?"

A few yes's followed his brief speech, and Snape turned his attention to Neville and Harry.

"Listen to me, you two," he spoke quietly. "When the time comes, you will charge, run and Apparate with the rest. Do not linger, you understand? If I see you turning around, dawdling, or getting under my feet in any way whatsoever to slow me down, I will finish you off myself. Have I made myself abundantly clear?"

Harry and Neville nodded together. For his part, Harry wasn't entirely certain it was an empty threat.

Flitwick extinguished his Lumos and sped ahead in complete darkness. The rest of the group gave him a few seconds worth head start before running after him.

Flitwick's height – or rather, lack thereof, turned out to be an advantage. He dodged an Auror's spell to cast one of his own, a modified Obscuro charm. Blinded, the Aurors stumbled backwards, casting spells at random. One of those spells glanced off Harry's shoulder, leaving a deep gash in it. Harry yelped out loud, but didn't stop. He just charged ahead, following the rest of the group.

The staircase was in sight, and Flitwick had already climbed to the top of it. His Protego deflected hexes and curses from the Aurors who were converging from the woods on their location. Without losing a moment, Flint, Goyle, Nott and Draco made it outside, Apparating away instantaneously. Neville hesitated briefly, but Harry pushed him ahead, knowing Snape was not too far behind them and would need a clear path. A second later, Neville was out too, and Apparated away.

**o-o-o**

Severus ran. The guards, chasing them through the tunnel, were gaining on him – on all of them. Without turning and never slowing down, he drew his wand back and blindly cast a few blasting charms at the pursuers. He must have gotten some of them, but not all. They were still gaining on him, about to overtake him, about to catch up with Potter, Longbottom – and the others. Severus couldn't tell whether they had made it out of the tunnel or not. A spell aimed at his back knocked him down.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion – him falling, the sounds of the footsteps behind him. His wand was still in his hand. Mere seconds left to him, no more than that, he aimed it at the ceiling of the tunnel and uttered the Blasting Curse.

The ceiling caved in. Rocks fell, tumbling toward him and the guards, the man-made avalanche trapping him with his pursuers and separating them from his former students. Another hostile spell slammed his body squarely into the ground. He barely felt the impact, blacking out a moment later.

**o-o-o**

Harry himself barely managed to make it halfway through the staircase, when he felt someone's hand on his injured shoulder, pulling him to turn him around. Instinctively Harry struck out and punched. He almost missed – it was a glancing blow at best, but the Auror who'd grabbed him let go of him instantly, stumbling back. There was some sort of noise behind him. Harry didn't stop. Snape was coming right behind him, Snape needed a clear path out of the narrow tunnel – that was the last thought on Harry's mind when he Apparated away.


	5. When The Bough Breaks

**When the Bough Breaks **

Harry Apparated back near his home on Angle Street. He instinctively looked around, trying to figure out whether he attracted any undue attention. Walking towards his flat, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the window of the bookshop. His sweater was covered in dirt and dust; the bloodied stain showed on his shoulder.

Avoiding meeting anyone's eyes, he sped upstairs and ran into his flat. The door shut behind him. For a long minute he stood still, his back leaning against the door as he tried to catch his breath.

It was over, but he had no concept of how it went: whether Neville managed to make it back home in one piece or whether Flitwick was all right. He didn't know whether the Slytherins made it safely to McGonagall's house in Scotland. And Snape – Harry had no idea whether he ever made it out of that bloody tunnel alive. _Might never know for sure_, a nasty thought entered his mind, but Harry willed it away.

He'd promised Ron and Hermione he'd check in with them as soon as everything was over, but now that he was home, he had no intention of doing so. At least not right away. He didn't know if the Auror who'd grabbed him just before Harry Apparated away, recognized him. If he did... Harry had no idea what the consequences would be. He only suspected it'd be wise to lay low and stay away from anyone else who was involved in this action, directly or indirectly, as not to cast suspicion on them, too.

Tiny, barely audible sounds of dripping on the floor at his feet made Harry crane his neck. It hurt to do so. The stain on his shoulder was growing bigger. Going to St. Mungo's was out of the question, of course. Gritting his teeth, Harry pulled off the sweater and the shirt, and used a healing spell on himself. It worked to a point – the wound closed, but his shoulder and arm went numb in the process. He sighed, put his wand away and dropped to the couch without taking his boots off.

He shut his eyes. Sleep came quickly. In his dreams, he kept running through the tunnel. It was pitch black inside, but for some reason it never occurred to him to cast a Lumos.

**o-o-o**

Severus regained consciousness and was greeted with the sight of a familiar environment – a cell, much like the one where he'd spent months of solitary confinement. For one quick, insane moment he wondered whether the events of the last few days were nothing but a delirious fantasy of a lonely mind. It seemed unreal, all of it: being released, seeing the infant Bellatrix in Granger's arms, the desperate rescue mission, the missing Portkey and the mad sprint through the secret tunnel. He drew his hand to his eyes and saw that his knuckles were skinned raw.

He smiled, relieved in spite of himself. _Real_, he thought, _it had been real. It happened._

"I see you're awake," the familiar voice said.

Severus sat up abruptly.

Emma Wild stood in the doors of the cell, two guards accompanying her.

"What did I tell you about not engaging in criminal activity?" she asked dryly.

Severus stared at her.

"Somehow, I don't think you're surprised by this development," he said. He was bluffing, but almost certain that he was correct in his suspicions.

"Not entirely, no," Wild said. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly to give the first intimation of a smile.

"You know, I find the entire affair rather odd," Severus mused. "After all, only Lucius and I knew about the Portkey, not to mention the tunnel. It should have been a rather simple operation. And yet... we were intercepted. It's almost as if you were waiting for us."

Wild inclined her head. "As you say."

Severus studied her face. She was older than McGonagall, he thought suddenly, she was older than anyone he knew. Her kind lived forever, always there to tell people what to do, what to think.

"Interesting," Severus mused. "I thought the memories of those de-aged were supposed to be erased."

"As far as the general public knows, they are," Wild conceded. "Still, it seemed prudent to store them and keep them for review. Information is power. It'd be a shame to let all this information go to waste."

"To let all this power go to waste, you mean." He knew he was at the end of his road, and he didn't feel like mincing words.

Wild did not argue with him. She produced a small parchment from her pocket, opened it and began to read out loud. "Severus Snape, as per the conditions of your plea bargain with the Department of Justice, your pardon has been revoked. You now stand convicted of war crimes and will be entering the Second Chances Program. Under that program, you will be returned to the age of one month old and placed with a loving, responsible family, who will raise you to ensure that your new personality will be a benefit, rather than a threat to society. Do you understand?"

Severus laughed. His back pressed against the cold stone of the cell, he felt strangely and inexplicably free, more so than he ever had in his entire life. It was exhilarating to know that he had nothing left to lose and no longer had to bother with being careful in any way.

"If I say no, will you reconsider?"

Wild actually smiled at that, although without warmth.

"I'm afraid not." She glanced at him with genuine curiosity. "Aren't you going to ask whether your young friends made it out, or were apprehended?"

Severus shrugged. "I don't need to ask. I know they made it. Had they not, you'd have taken this opportunity to mention it and rub my nose in it." He sneered at her and with satisfaction observed that she pursed her lips and winced in annoyance. "Your arrogance was your undoing, Wild," he said. "You should have taken me on my way into the Manor."

Wild shook her head, her lips pressed into the thinnest of lines. "I'm surprised that they got away. Though I'm displeased about the way it worked out," she said calmly. "The youngsters are really a minor problem. They're on the run, most likely out of the country by now. They'll be forgotten soon enough. I will admit, though," she said, bemused, "we didn't count on Harry Potter becoming involved in your little rescue operation."

"Is he under arrest?" Severus asked, doing his best to keep his tone only vaguely curious.

"Nonsense. Of course he isn't." Wild seemed to be entertained by the suggestion. "He was never brought in. No, it would be really bad publicity to have it come out that Harry Potter himself was apprehended interfering with the Second Chances program." She fell silent for a while, absorbed in her own thoughts. Severus watched her. "We'll just pretend it never happened," she said finally. "Let Harry consider himself exceptionally lucky that we never found out his involvement in this. The same is true of Longbottom and Flitwick. Though," she added, as an afterthought, "I will admit, I was disappointed in Flitwick. We'll have to find a way to let him go gently from his position at Hogwarts. I doubt he'll fight it, given the circumstances. In the end, it doesn't matter that the three of them got away with it." She gave Severus a long, thoughtful look, and he didn't fail to grasp its full meaning.

"It's me you wanted all along," he murmured in a barely audible voice. "It was a setup."

Her eyes narrowed. "I did give you a fair warning. You can't deny that."

"I suppose I should thank you? Or apologize?" he taunted halfheartedly.

"I'm not counting on either," she spoke, the anger in her voice building slowly. "People like you aren't capable of gratitude or remorse. You walk through life with a sense of entitlement. You've done some truly horrible things, Snape, but you have no concept of how horrible they were. You now expect to be thanked and rewarded because you did them for a good cause. You're no different from the other Death Eaters. In many ways, you're worse."

Severus didn't argue that point. For a while he simply looked at her, studying her face, trying to understand. He wished for his wand; it almost hurt not to have it, as if a limb had been severed or a sense taken away.

"Why is it so important to you that I am punished?" he asked, not really hoping for an answer.

To his surprise, the answer came and appeared sincere, if not informative. "I will let you wonder about that," she said, her voice cool and measured. "While you're losing your memories, all of them, you should consider each one and ask yourself, is this it? Was this the straw that broke the camel's back? Was this the crime that finally made someone decide, enough is enough?" 

**o-o-o**

Harry woke to the sounds of someone's footsteps in his flat. Still foggy, he thought that Wild's people were finally coming to arrest him. He didn't bother reaching for his wand or opening his eyes. It really didn't matter.

"Harry!"

Hermione's voice jolted him back to reality. He bolted to sit up and swayed, slightly off balance, still barely able to feel his arm and shoulder. Hermione rushed to him and steadied him.

"You shouldn't be here," Harry mumbled, while Hermione guided him to sit up and examined his shoulder. "Hermione, I mean it. Go home."

She paid him no heed but simply proceeded to cast diagnostic and healing spells in rapid succession. A moment later he lifted his arm and flexed it.

Hermione watched him with concern. "Harry, what happened?" she demanded. "You didn't check in with us like you promised – Ron and I were worried sick about you!"

"They got us when we were exiting the tunnel," Harry said. He leaned over the armrest of the couch, picked up his sweater and put it on. "I was seen. Hermione – the Ministry know I was involved. You should go now, before everything hits the fan and they suspect you, too."

She grabbed him by the hand and urging him up to his feet. "Come with me," she said decisively, pulling him to the Floo. He opened his mouth to object, but she just pulled him along. "Harry, for once in your life, just do as I say and don't argue." 

**o-o-o **

The De-Aging Facility was a part of the prison's hospital wing. It was a small room with a hospital bed, cupboards with potions, and a full complement of Aurors with their wands drawn. Escape didn't seem to be a viable option. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching the mediwizard prepare the potion, who was a tall man of about Severus' age, stringy blond hair gathered into a ponytail. All in all, he looked like a faded version of Lucius, Severus thought privately.

"How does the process work?" Severus asked, wondering if an answer would follow. The mediwizard gave Wild a quizzical look. She nodded briefly, and the mediwizard proceeded to respond.

"There are two potions involved. The first potion will suppress centers of the human brain, responsible for Occlumency. The second potion is delivered in a series of treatments, each one designed to de-age a human subject by seven years. Each treatment takes a few hours to complete. As the subject grows younger, the team of Legiliments will work to gently remove the subject's memory, ensuring that no neurological damage occurs. The final treatment needs to be calibrated with extreme precision to revert the subject to the age of one month. The process, due to its nature, is irreversible."

"Gently removing memories," Severus mused thoughtfully. "So you will not be using a regular Oblivation spell?"

"No. That's too risky, too uncertain. We've developed a new procedure, IMRT –Iterative Memory Removal Technique. Simply put, we continue to draw memories from the subject's mind, over and over again, until nothing is left."

"And, unlike Oblivation, this technique allows you to store those memories," Severus added, with satisfaction observing the mediwizard's reaction: the man paled slightly and took a step back. "You realize, of course, that the parents of the de-aged will be incensed when they find out that you're still holding those memories of their adoptive children's past lives?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the mediwizard said uncertainly. "My only concern is the subject's physical and mental health..."

Severus smirked. "I can't help but notice you're speaking of me in the third person. Having trouble with the program, are you? Trying to distance yourself from what you're doing? How is it working for you?"

The mediwizard gave no answer, opting to turn away and busy himself with the potions.

Wild cleared her throat meaningfully. "Well, it looks like this discussion has reached its conclusion," she said. "I wonder why you even bothered to ask – it's not like you'll remember any of it."

Severus let out a deep breath. She had a point, of course. He didn't know why he cared to ask those questions. Perhaps, because he still had difficulty believing that he was about to lose all that he was – the sum of his memories.

The vial with the first potion was placed in his hand. He held it and stared: a clear, odorless liquid.

He noticed that Wild was studying him thoughtfully.

"Are you going to drink it, or should we restrain you and force-feed you? I assure you, the outcome will be the same."

Severus turned to stare at her. "This is a really - and I cannot emphasize it enough – a really bad move on your part, Wild," he said. "Your best option would be to kill me. Because, if you don't, I assure you, one day I will find out what you've done and come for you. On that day I will destroy you."

A small unpleasant smile appeared on Wild's lips. "I highly doubt that," she said. "I predict that with proper parenting you will grow up just fine. Now drink."

Severus shrugged.

"It's your funeral, Wild."

He emptied the first vial in one gulp.

**o-o-o**

At Ron's and Hermione's place, Harry sat down on the couch and buried his face in his hands. His friends sat on each side of him, waiting for him to talk.

"I shouldn't be here," he said again.

"Don't be stupid," Ron said. "Where else would you be? Tell us what happened."

"It all went wrong from the start," Harry said miserably. "First, Snape's Portkey was missing. I mean, I guess it was a long shot, that it'd still be there, but he seemed so fucking sure it would be! But anyway, Flitwick had a backup plan. He even brought spare wands for the Slytherins, so we decided to keep going. We got Draco and the others out – but then, before we knew it, the Aurors were converging on us from both ends of that bloody tunnel. We made a run for it and the Slytherins got out and Apparated away. I left the tunnel next."

"And Snape?" Hermione asked.

"He was right behind me. He should have gotten out. I don't know if he did." Harry sighed wearily. "You know, it's almost like they knew we were coming, or something."

"I doubt that," Ron said reasonably. "It's not like we told anyone. More likely they just noticed it when Flitwick was messing with the Ministry's wards and reacted. Still, why do you think anyone knows you were involved?"

"One of the Aurors grabbed me," Harry explained. "I got away from him, but... it was almost too easy, you know? Like he just let me go once he knew who I was."

"Now that is possible," Hermione mused. "Arresting you wouldn't be a very clever political move, you're still the Chosen One and all that rot..."

Harry shot her a murderous look and was about to say something nasty in response, when the baby's crying drew their attention.

"I'll get her," Ron said and headed upstairs.

Harry stared at Hermione with sympathy.

"Do you ever sleep these days?" he asked.

Hermione gave him a weak smile. "Yes, quite often. Just at all the wrong times and never for too long."

**o-o-o**

Waking up was difficult. His thoughts were a haze of disjointed memories.

Severus opened his eyes. It was dark. He made a move to sit up, but someone's hand stayed him.

"Shhh. It's all right," an unfamiliar voice said. "You're doing fine."

"What happened?" he asked, trying to make sense of things, and finding himself unable to do so.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

He tried to focus, which was not an easy task. Then he remembered – the blasted Quidditch match, with Potter flying around like he owned the airspace, about to break his neck any moment.

"What's the last thing you remember?" the voice asked again.

To his own surprise, Severus found himself answering. "The Quidditch Match. Potter nearly bloody fell off his broom. They should have never let him play."

Another question followed. "Who is teaching DADA at Hogwarts?"

"Quirrell," Severus said, not bothering to hide his distaste. Then he remembered something else, yes, Quirrell. Severus needed to talk to that stuttering idiot, who was waiting for him in the Forbidden Forest right now...

"That's good, really good. You're doing great."

He had difficulty believing it. There was a sense of unease that came with remembering – as if events that he knew to be recent had happened ages ago. But that was a mistake, it must have been. He knew he had no time to waste.

"I've got to get back to Hogwarts." He almost managed to sit up fully when a spell forced him to fall back on the bed. A moment later he felt some sort of potion enter his mouth. He attempted to spit it out, but was prevented from doing so.

"It's okay. You're doing fine. Sleep now. "

He didn't want to sleep. He couldn't afford to sleep.

"Hogwarts," Severus heard himself mutter, before sinking into oblivion. "Hogwarts."

**o-o-o**

Eventually Ron said goodnight and went upstairs to bed, claiming classes tomorrow.

In Hermione's arms, Bellatrix began to quiet. Hermione leaned back on the couch, with her eyes shut. Harry watched the two of them, both half asleep, Hermione's hand rising and falling to stroke the infant's dark hair.

"Bet you can't wait for her to grow up," Harry said.

He found it somewhat of a bitter irony that after the war it was Hermione who convinced Ron to return to Hogwarts with her and complete the seventh year properly. Now that they had Bellatrix, Hermione had chosen to withdraw from studies, but Ron continued to attend. Harry wondered how long it would be until Hermione decided to complete her education and pursue a career of some sort. For now, she seemed quite at peace, holding the baby in her arms.

"I don't mind this," she murmured. "No, we're in no hurry."

Bellatrix let out a small whimper and Hermione hummed very quietly, barely loud enough to be heard.

_Rock-a-bye baby  
>On the tree top,<br>When the wind blows  
>The cradle will rock.<br>When the bough breaks  
>The cradle will fall,<br>And down will come baby,  
>Cradle and all.<em>

The words of the old nursery rhyme sent a small chill down his spine. Maybe because Hermione sang it like she meant it, Harry thought suddenly. Like she was waiting not for Bella to grow up, but for the bough to break... and wasn't too sure if she was going to be there, at the bottom of the tree, to catch the baby, cradle and all.

"Hermione," Harry said.

She didn't open her eyes.

"Mmm?"

"You know, it'll work out," he said. "There's no chance that she'll grow up like she used to be. You've got to believe that."

"I'm trying to believe," she said. "Somedays I'm not sure I can."

"If you can't believe you're making a difference, then what's the point of all of this?" Harry asked.

Hermione's eyes still shut, she gave a small smile. "You don't love someone to get them to be good, Harry."

"I know that," he conceded.

The next time Hermione hummed the lullaby it didn't seem quite so sinister. Harry looked at Bellatrix. Soothed by Hermione's singing, she slept.

**o-o-o**

Waking up was difficult. Probably because Severus still couldn't get used to the thought of waking up to the world without Lily. It's been four years and some – and still, every morning for the first instant that he woke, he didn't know she was gone. He just knew that something horrible and irreversible had happened – and then, he'd remember.

Hogwarts turned out to be a torment of its own. He walked the hallways, thinking that if he just turned the right corner, or looked in the right direction at the right time, he'd see her. But the corners were all wrong and the time was never right, because she was never around. Sometimes he thought he was going mad, and at other times, madness seemed like a welcome option. Maybe then he'd finally see her.

"You're awake," an unfamiliar voice said. He made a move to sit up, and his body encountered some sort of force holding him down. He tried to open his eyes and couldn't. He didn't know where he was, or how he got here, in fact, he didn't know anything other than the fact that he must have finally gone insane.

_Insane, finally insane, and still no Lily._ That ridiculous thought amused him no end and he laughed out loud. There must have been a hysterical note in his voice, because someone's hand rested on his shoulder.

"Do you know what year it is?" the voice asked him.

"Nineteen eighty-five," Severus replied.

"That's good. Very good." He felt a vial brought to his mouth. "Drink."

He was about to tell them that there was no use, he was incurable, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, some sort of potion was poured in. He swallowed automatically.

"You're doing very well. Sleep now."

He didn't want to sleep, or more precisely, he didn't want to wake up to the usual familiar horror of the world without _her_. But sleep was coming regardless, and with it, blissful madness, too. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a familiar slender silhouette standing tall against the pale blue sky and a strand of impossibly red hair flying in the wind. 

**To Be Continued...**


	6. The Hour of the Wolf

**The Hour of the Wolf**

Seated in the armchair across from sleeping Hermione with Bella in her arms, Harry himself began to nod off. He suspected that he should go home, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and go. Then again, he knew his friends wouldn't mind finding him there when they woke. It wasn't like he had anything waiting for him back home.

He sat up abruptly when the hearth flashed with a firecall coming in. Hermione woke as well, and still holding sleeping Bellatrix, turned her head to the Floo. The image of Emma Wild appeared through the flames. She looked unbelievably cheerful, Harry thought with disgust, more cheerful than anybody should look in the middle of the night.

"I am terribly sorry to disturb you, Mrs Weasley-Granger," Wild said in just the tone of voice that suggested she wasn't. "I was actually looking for Mister Potter. I firecalled his place and there was no answer. I thought he might be with you."

"So here I am," Harry said, coming up to the Floo to position himself between Hermione and the image of Wild. "What is it?"

"There's been a very troubling development," Wild said matter-of-factly. "The four Slytherins we were holding in custody – namely, Malfoy, Goyle, Flint and Nott – managed to escape somehow. We weren't able to trace them."

"Really?" Harry said neutrally. He almost added something along the lines of _sucks to be you_, but managed to hold his tongue at the last moment.

"You wouldn't know anything about it, would you?" Wild asked.

"How would I? Even if they could, it's not like they'd tell me they were planning an escape," Harry said, opting to play innocent for the moment to see how far it'd get him.

"Quite true," Wild conceded. "Well, I just thought you'd like to know. You seem to be very involved in the political action surrounding the Second Chances program. Even though we find ourselves at odds more often than I like, I thought I'd inform you of this development as a courtesy."

"Uh. Thanks," Harry said. He knew that wasn't all. His stomach clenched in a tight knot in anticipation of whatever else she had to say. He didn't have to wait long.

"You're quite welcome. Oh, and one more thing. We managed to apprehend the person who'd masterminded the entire escape attempt. Believe it or not, it was Severus Snape." Wild shook her head as if to express regret. "Such a shame."

"I've got to see him," Harry said. "Now."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Wild replied coolly. "Under the conditions of our deal, his sentence was to commence immediately in case of any wrongdoing of criminal nature on his part. The de-aging process has already began."

"Then you've got to stop it!" Harry snapped. Disturbed by his shouting, Bellatrix began to cry.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Wild repeated.

"Make it possible. I'm coming to see you right now."

"It's very late. I'm about to go home. We can meet first thing in the morning, if you wish. By then the process will be complete. Good night, Mister Potter."

It took all of his effort not to shout obscenities into the Floo, for all the good it would do. He bit his lip. "I'm asking you to meet with me now. As a favour," he forced those last words out through gritted teeth.  
>"Very well," Wild said with an exaggerated sigh.<p>

The firecall ended. Harry leapt to his feet. Ron was already downstairs, receiving the wailing Bellatrix from Hermione.

"I'm coming with you," Hermione said, patting her hair down in a desperate attempt to manage it before tying it off into a ponytail.

This time Harry didn't argue with her. 

**o-o-o**

He woke up not knowing where he was. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't move. His wand wasn't anywhere on his person either, as far as he could tell. Panic struck then, and Severus sucked in a furious breath that made his teeth ache.

"Let me go!" he blurted out, every muscle in his body straining to break free of the invisible bonds holding him. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

Silence answered him. They must have found out, he thought in absolute despair. He didn't think that they'd be arresting people just for having the Dark Mark, but what other possible explanation could there be? And he's only just received it, too...

_It was a dark thrill, of sorts, to see the image of the skull and the__serpent come __to life on his skin. Still, there was a small but insistent twinge of guilt mixed with that thrill: he knew, that if Lily ever found out, she'd recoil from him in horror. __  
><em>_  
>He gritted his teeth and, casting that thought away. She was gone from his life now, so why did it matter what she'd think? Somehow, it still did. Doing something she'd disapprove of felt like a transgression. <em>

Maybe he did transgress, and this was his due. It hurt to think that, but it seemed to fit.

"How old are you?" an unfamiliar voice asked, jolting him back to reality.

"Eighteen," Severus replied sullenly.

"That's good. You're doing very well."

For a moment, a brief glimmer of hope came – that he wasn't under arrest, that he wasn't being punished. But the restraints and the dark shade obscuring his vision said otherwise. No, this couldn't be happening just for him taking the Mark. He must have done something truly wrong, he thought miserably, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what that was.

A vial was brought to his lips. A mere moment later, he found himself drinking its contents.

"What did I do? Why am I here?" he managed to ask. He fell asleep before hearing an answer. 

**o-o-o **

Harry and Hermione stepped out of the Floo in the office of the Department of Justice. It was a tidy, if sterile environment, just as blank and inscrutable as its owner. She was seated behind a massive desk. Four Aurors with their wands drawn were guarding the doorway, and scrutinizing Hermione and Harry with open suspicion.

Harry took a quick look around: minimalistic unremarkable furniture, a single shelf with a few books on it, a neat pile of official papers of some sort.

The only personal touch to the entire office was a small Wizarding photograph of a much younger version of Emma Wild and a small child in her arms. The child, a girl of about three or four years old, smiled cheerfully, tugging on her mother's long hair. The image of Wild on the photograph threw her head back in silent laughter. For a second, Harry wondered what happened to turn the delighted, happy mother into the nasty bint they had to deal with now. He also thought that Wild on the photograph vaguely reminded him of someone, but he couldn't remember who.

Emma Wild intercepted his gaze and cleared her through meaningfully.

"Mister Potter. Mrs Granger-Weasley. What's on your mind?"

Harry took a deep breath, resolved not to shout.

"You can't do this to Snape," he said as calmly as he could manage. "This needs to stop."

Wild stared at him, her face expressionless.

"I'm surprised to hear you say that. You're aware of the agreement Mister Snape signed."

Harry's hand in the pocket of his robe, he gripped his wand. Next to him, Hermione must have sensed something, because she squeezed his elbow tightly, staying his hand. He allowed himself to be held back, knowing that starting a fight in Wild's office and getting arrested for it wouldn't do Snape any good. But by the same token, he couldn't just stand by while Snape was being erased and destroyed, bit by bit.

"I don't care about the agreement," Harry said bitterly. "Look..."

"Mister Potter, the discussion is moot," Wild said. "The process has already began. Severus Snape has undergone four de-aging treatments already. At this point, physically and mentally, he is eleven years old..."

"Then stop the fifth treatment!" Harry blurted out desperately. "Please – you must have a way to stop it! I'll do anything, if you just make it stop!"

Wild's expression showed the first sign of interest.

"Anything," she mused softly, thoughtfully, as if weighing that word. "Such as?"

Harry felt something break inside – as if some sort of axis, around which his world was turning, had crumbled into dust. He took a deep breath, knowing what he needed to say, and almost not caring at this point.

"I'll give public support to the Second Chances program," he heard himself say. "I will do it, if you stop Snape's de-aging immediately and let me take him home." Hermione let out a small shocked gasp and squeezed his elbow tighter. Harry avoided looking at her.

"If you want to adopt, you will need to go through proper channels," Wild replied. "You know the rules."

"I know the rules," Harry agreed. "And I know that you can bend them. Do you want my support or not?"

For a moment wondered whether she'd try and drive a harder bargain, demanding more concessions, more promises. But Wild did no such thing. She reached into her desk and pulled out a document that Harry recognized to be the standard "Second Chance" adoption contract. Harry skimmed it quickly – standard conditions, the Nondisclosure Oath attached in the end. It was phrased even harsher than Harry expected: The child's "criminal" past was a matter of absolute secrecy. Doing anything, directly or indirectly, to reveal it, constituted a breach of contract and would be dealt with accordingly.

"You know, Mister Potter, this isn't very wise," Wild said. "You should allow us to complete the process, de-age him fully before you take him home."

"No," Harry said.

Wild shook her head. "You realize, your contract is the same as everyone else's, but it'll be very hard for you to keep the Nondisclosure Oath. An eleven year-old will want to know what happened. He will be asking you questions, plenty of them. How will you explain all of this to him?"

"I'll think of something," Harry said. The prospect of having to lie to young Snape made him sick already. He understood all too well that he was getting himself deeper and deeper into some kind of nasty business, but saw no way out of it.

He signed the document, two copies. Hermione, who remained silent throughout the entire discussion, signed as a witness, still without saying a word. Harry tucked away his copy of the contract into his pocket and gave Wild a long look.

"Very well," she said. "Come with me."

They left the Ministry of Magic building together in order to Apparate to the prison facility. Wild walked in front; Hermione and Harry followed her.

It was dark outside. _Probably about three in the morning_, Harry thought absently, looking up. The night sky was starless and murky, and the world around them seemed to be disappearing under its weight.

"The hour of the wolf," Hermione said quietly, speaking to him for the first time since his deal with Wild.

"Hmm?"

"The late hour of night. They say it's the time when most people die and are born."

"Oh. Well yes. It is late." He turned to her, half-expecting her to say goodbye and go home. But she continued to walk by Harry's side, stopping only for a moment to reach out for his hand and squeeze it encouragingly.

A moment later, they Apparated together to the familiar entrance to the prison facility, where Snape had been held for almost a year and where he had been returned following his capture.

Wild led the way through the brightly illuminated spacious hallways. Harry's heart pounded with every step.

When they entered the de-aging facility, Harry found himself freezing in the doorway. He knew what to expect, but he still was shocked by the sight in front of him. It was as if one of those Snape's early memories Harry had seen less than a year ago somehow became flesh.

On the narrow hospital bed, covered with a thin blanket, slept a boy. He was breathing deeply and evenly, his chest rising and falling with every breath.

The boy's stringy black hair fell on his face and obscured his eyes, as if even in his sleep, he was trying to hide himself from people. For the longest time, Harry stared at him, barely able to believe that this thin, bony child was all that was left of Severus Snape. He supposed they were lucky: at least they were able to save this much – eleven years worth of Snape's personality and memories... but he didn't feel lucky at all. It just hurt to look at Snape now and know how much was lost.

At some point, Harry realized that Wild was talking to him.

"...and since he is heavily sedated after the last treatment, you should just let him sleep it off. In fact, let him have plenty of sleep in the next little while, he will need it. If you run into difficulties, please contact the Second Chances Office in the Department of Justice, Family Services branch. "

He nodded mutely, hating her.

When Wild stopped talking, Harry stepped forward and lifted the boy off the bed. He didn't wake.

Snape turned out to be heavier than Harry expected. The blanket slipped while Harry was adjusting him awkwardly in his arms. Harry saw that they didn't just shrink Snape's adult clothing – they replaced it. Snape was wearing jeans and a long sleeved shirt, both brand new. The shirt still had the price tag from one of the Diagon Alley's high end apparel stores. Automatically, Hermione lifted her wand to cut it off.  
>"In spite of what you may think, we aren't monsters here," Wild said softly. "We really care for these children. And I know that you do as well."<p>

Harry didn't answer. He walked away, carrying the sleeping child in his arms.

**To Be Continued... **


	7. A Service to Stranded Wizards

**A Service to Stranded Wizards **

****Severus woke up feeling groggy and uncomfortable. Last time he felt like that was when he stole Dad's bottle of Scotch and had a generous helping of it.

Dad had yelled at him then. Severus just stared at him and smiled, all dizzy and giggly. He couldn't understand what all the fuss was about, there was still plenty left. It's not like he drank the last of the milk in the fridge without telling anyone. Mum seemed to think it wasn't a huge deal, because she didn't yell. She cast some sort of spell on him, shook her head, grabbed him by the arm and marched him into the bedroom.

"Just sleep it off," she'd said. "And don't you ever, ever do that again."

He must have done it again, because he was all fuzzy and sluggish, and couldn't remember anything from last night. Or the night before, for that matter. Severus opened his eyes and nearly yelped out loud when he realized he wasn't home. He was in a big bed with plenty of pillows, a thick blue duvet covering him. The bedroom itself was small. The walls were bare, apart from a few nails here and there – as if someone had taken the pictures off, before settling him in.

Severus threw the duvet off and stared. He was fully dressed, wearing clothes he didn't recognize.

He must have been kidnapped, Severus thought, and a sick, nasty feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He heard scary stories of serial killers abducting children, of course, but he never, not in a million years, thought it'd happen to him. He still didn't know how it could have happened – he'd always been pretty careful and knew not to get into strangers' cars and all that rot.

Slowly, careful not to make a sound, Severus got up, walked to the window and pushed the curtain aside. He stared down and was nearly made dizzy by the sight. He was on the third floor above some busy street where people in wizarding robes walked to and fro. It looked a bit like Diagon Alley from Mum's stories, Severus thought, but he couldn't understand how he came to be here. He lifted his head and looked straight ahead, above the roofs of the buildings. He could see where Muggle London began. Silver-grey sky shone above, and Severus found that he couldn't look at it for too long; all that open space just beyond the window made him dizzy. Or maybe he was still dizzy from whatever he drank the night before.

Severus tried the latch on the window. It didn't budge and Severus didn't try to force it. He doubted he could climb out of the third floor window and make it down in one piece anyway.

He heard footsteps downstairs. Someone was coming for him. His first instinct was to hide, maybe under the bed or in the bedroom closet – but he quickly dismissed that idea. If he really had been kidnapped, it'd do no good to hide and make his abductor come after him. He reckoned it made sense to play cool, pretend he didn't care and escape at the first opportunity.

**o-o-o **

Snape slept through the night and the entire morning, too. Harry left him in the bedroom and took the couch downstairs. He didn't wake Snape even when afternoon came and the shop downstairs got busy with customers. He waited patiently, resolved to let Snape to take his time and come out to him. But when Harry heard the first hesitant footsteps in the bedroom upstairs, his resolve waned. He walked up the staircase and knocked on the bedroom door.

"Hello?" Harry said and waited for response. When none came, he knocked again. "Can I enter?"

"Fine." An unfriendly response was delivered in a child's voice. Harry pushed the door open.

Snape was up and on his feet already, standing between the bed and the window, his back pressed against the wall. He eyed Harry with poorly concealed suspicion.

Sullen, black haired, bony and disheveled, Snape looked like a young rook separated from the rest of the flock. His growth spurt must have come early, because Snape was taller than most eleven year olds, but he was still shorter than Harry by at least twelve inches.

For a long minute, Harry just stared at him mutely, a foot of height and twenty eight years of lost memories separating them.

"Hello, Severus," he finally managed to say. "My name's Harry."

"Oh." Severus didn't move from the wall, but darted another suspicious glance. "How do you know me?"

"Er, it's a bit of a long story," Harry said, inwardly cursing himself for not having prepared any better for this conversation. "How are you feeling?"

Severus answered his question with one of his own. "What am I doing here? Where are my mum and dad?"

Something caught in Harry's throat. He should have been prepared for this question, but he wasn't, not really. "Severus," he asked cautiously, "do you know what year it is?"

An indignant huff answered him. "I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say you were," Harry countered patiently, "Just want to make sure you're okay. So, what year it is?"

"Nineteen-seventy one," Severus said.

Harry took a deep breath. "Severus, I know you might find this very hard to believe, but... it's been a long time since nineteen-seventy one. The year now is nineteen ninety nine."

Severus processed Harry's words in absolute silence. Then, he lifted his head and gave Harry a long, wary look. "Did I travel forward in time?"

Taken aback by the unexpected question, Harry almost denied it automatically, but then realized it was as good an explanation as any other, for the time being. "Er, yes, something like that."

Another guarded, wary glance came his way.

"My parents?"

"I'm very sorry," Harry heard himself saying. "Severus, I'm sorry. They're gone."

"Oh." That was the only response he received. There was no crying, no anger, no denials – Severus took the news with what seemed like sullen indifference. "Okay."

Harry bit his lip, frustrated beyond all measure that he couldn't tell Severus everything, or at least, as much as was appropriate under the circumstances. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

Severus shrugged. "A bit."

"What would you like for breakfast?"

"Toast and chocolate spread."

Harry nodded to him, relieved that at least he could do that. "Okay. Why don't you wash up and come downstairs. We'll have breakfast." 

**o-o-o **

Severus went to the bathroom, closed the door behind him and stared at the counter. He saw a brand new toothbrush still in a shiny wrapper, a hair comb and a clean towel. He tore the package with the toothbrush open and threw the wrapper into the waste basket. He missed, but didn't bother picking up after himself.

Thoughts were racing through his head wildly and he could barely keep up with them. This bloke – Harry – tall, lanky, bespectacled, seemed too normal to be a serial killer. In fact, the only abnormal thing about Harry was the odd lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.

Still, Mum always said that it's the normal-looking ones that you had to really watch out for. Severus intended to do just that. Harry was lying to him, Severus knew, and wondered what he was hiding.

It was likely a good thing that this Harry bloke wasn't very bright, he thought. The story made no sense of course, the time travel explanation least of all. Severus didn't believe for a moment that his parents were dead. If anything, he was sure they were trying to find him already, but he doubted they'd know to look for him in London.

Severus splashed water in his face and took a deep breath. All he really needed to do was bide his time until he could get out and run. He wasn't sure how he'd make it back to Manchester, but he knew he'd find a way. 

**o-o-o **

Severus made it downstairs and sat at Harry's kitchen table without invitation. He sulked in silence while Harry used his wand to brown two pieces of toast before sliding them across the table. The jar of chocolate spread followed later and was met with Severus' approval. Severus spread it thickly onto the bread. He never looked at Harry.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked softly. "Severus?"

Severus didn't lift his head. He ate in silence and Harry watched him numbly, feeling awkward and useless.

"Do you want anything?" Harry tried again. "Books? Games?"

"No. I just want to sleep." Without another word, Severus rose to his feet and went upstairs. The bedroom door slammed shut.

Harry remained at the kitchen table. His hand balled up into a fist of its won accord. His only comfort was that things couldn't get much worse than this. 

**o-o-o**

Severus slept through the rest of the day. It must have been early evening when he woke: the sky behind the window was growing dark.

He could hear his captor's footsteps: Harry was pacing the floor of the sitting room over and over again, like a mechanical toy that got wound up too tight. But Severus resolved to be patient, he knew that nobody could keep this up forever. Eventually he heard the footsteps approaching. He tensed, but Harry never entered the bedroom. Severus heard the bathroom door open and click shut. Then, the water ran in the shower. He smiled, took off his shoes, and proceeded downstairs on tiptoe, careful not to make a sound. The wooden floor boards squeaked treacherously, but Severus was almost certain he wouldn't be heard.

Once downstairs in the sitting room, Severus saw Harry's robe, hanging on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Without a shred of remorse, he searched its pockets. He grinned at his stroke of luck when he came upon a wand and a substantial amount of wizarding currency – three galleons was no laughing matter. He took it all, shoved the money in his own pockets and flicked the wand. It seemed like it would work for him – after all, he had no trouble with his mother's wand, even if she didn't let him use it too often.

Severus took a deep breath and headed towards the door. It was locked, of course. He flicked the stolen wand and said _Alohamora_. The lock popped open with a loud sound, and Severus bolted out of the flat and down a windy staircase.

A brief moment later, he found himself in a book shop. A few witches and wizards were browsing the overflowing bookshelves and selecting merchandise. The clerk at the counter gave Severus a long look but didn't say anything. Without looking at anyone, Severus sped towards the exit.

Once he finally made it outside, he looked up and felt dizzy. There seemed to be just too much empty space above him and all around him, like he was just going to be sucked into it. It wasn't just frightening: the sight made him ill. The shoes he held dropped to the ground. He found himself bending down, hugging his body with his arms, almost unable to breathe. He couldn't understand what was happening to him – he'd never been afraid of being outside before and he certainly wasn't afraid of the dark. Maybe it was a curse of some sort, Severus thought desperately, maybe this Harry bloke hexed him, so he'd get sick whenever he went outside.

Severus forced himself to take small breaths and straighten out. He managed to do it slowly, but he avoided looking up this time. Ready to keep walking, he put his shoes on. Only then realized, quite belatedly, that he didn't know how to get out of this wizarding street into Muggle London. He was about to ask someone for directions, when a giant bus, bright and shiny, flew down the street. People scurried to get out of its way. Severus looked at it and smiled – his mum had told him about the Knight Bus that magically appeared to help people who were stranded.

But the bus seemed in no hurry to help him: its front door remained closed. Determined to make his presence known, Severus straightened out and marched towards the bus. He knocked on the bus door, politely at first, then louder, and finally began to pound on it in earnest.

The bus door opened at last. Severus gulped when he saw the driver – black-skinned and dark-eyed, he was tall and wide. In fact, he was probably the biggest man Severus had ever seen, to the point that Severus wasn't entirely sure how he managed to fit in the driver's seat. The man's enormous hands rested on the wheel in front of him. Everything about him was big. Even the thick mop of finely-curled black hair was huge, looking like a fair-sized black sheep.

For a long minute the bus driver just stared at Severus, as if uncertain what he was supposed to do with him. Eventually the driver spoke, or rather, roared, "Ben Speedie at your service! Providing transportation service to stranded wizards and witches everywhere!"

Severus walked into the bus, holding the handrail. "I need to get to Manchester." For a second, Ben Speedie seemed to hesitate. Severus pulled one galleon out of the pocket and showed it to Ben. Ben looked at it but didn't take it. The bus conductor, a skinny, lop-eared, cross-eyed bloke, approached them, clearly waiting for Ben's decision.

"You just said everywhere!" Severus cried out, almost forcing the galleon into the conductor's sweaty palm. "Now I'm a wizard, and I'm stranded, so take me to Manchester!" **  
><strong>

**o-o-o**

When Harry came out of the shower, the door to Severus' bedroom was tightly shut.

He wondered if Severus would be up all night after having slept through the day, but chose against waking him. Who knew what rubbish the Ministry put into those potions of theirs?

He went downstairs, sat on the couch and opened the fresh newspaper he'd picked up in the morning. It was more of the same: things were apparently great and getting greater by the minute. Emma Wild's statements, interviews and quotes littered the pages. It took him two miserable hours, but Harry read the entire thing, front to back, not quite sure why he was doing so: it only irritated him.

Setting the paper aside, Harry sighed and wondered if he somehow screwed up his first conversation with Severus. Perhaps he should have let Hermione handle it – she always knew what to say. He wasn't very good with words. It also seemed that he wasn't any good with eleven year-olds, either, Harry thought ruefully.

The room was getting chilly. He walked to the kitchen, picked up his robe and was ready to put it on when he noticed that it seemed lighter now. He checked the pockets quickly to find them empty: his wand was gone and money, too.

_That little shit,_ Harry thought, though not without a fair amount of admiration. He ran upstairs and knocked on the bedroom door loudly before entering. The room was empty.

He sped downstairs to encounter a broken lock on the front door, and then ran down the staircase into the bookshop. Roland, the owner, gave him an odd look.

"Did you see a child?" Harry demanded without preliminaries.

"He went that way," Roland made an indeterminate gesture to point to the door and gave Harry a somewhat sympathetic smile. "Were you babysitting?"

"No, he's my... well, I adopted him. It's the Second Chances program."

Roland nodded. His smile grew bigger, but less genuine.

Harry spent an hour searching Diagon Alley. His anxiety was mounting with every shop he went to and every person questioned. Nobody had seen Severus, he hadn't purchased anything, in fact, it was like he'd disappeared into thin air. Briefly, Harry wondered if Severus, at age eleven, knew how to Apparate, but dismissed that thought quickly.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. He needed to find Severus soon, before the Ministry ended up being involved. And, Harry thought, it was more than likely Severus would head to the place he thought to be home.

He went back to the bookshop and approached Roland.

"I need to borrow your wand," Harry said. "Don't ask." 

**o-o-o**

The Knight Bus dropped Severus off at Spinner's End, just within a few feet of his house, and drove away. Without looking around or up, he sped towards the house. He stopped in his tracks when he saw in the glow of the streetlight that the front door was now a different colour than he'd remembered – a darker brown. But the new paint had already begun to peel, revealing the familiar light brown shade underneath. Severus gulped, not knowing what to make of it, then pounded on the door as hard as he could.

"Mum! Dad!" he shouted on top of his lungs. "Open the door! I'm back!" 

**To Be Continued...**


	8. That Second Chances Boy

**That Second Chances Boy  
><strong>

Severus pounded on the door again, calling for his parents. No answer came. Holding his breath, he pressed his ear to the wooden planks. Silence. Maybe his parents were in bed already, Severus thought desperately. He did his best not to notice the lights pouring out of the neighbours' windows. Yes, that was it. They must have gone to bed. Or they were out looking for him, but where would they go?

Severus found his knees shaking. Exhausted, he sat down on the porch and ran his hand along the scuffed the wooden step. His fingers stroked the familiar indentations in it... then he remembered. The key! Severus reached into the space behind the wooden beam and felt the cool metal. The key was where it had always been.

He squeezed the key in his hand and fished it out from under the stairs, careful not to drop it. One look at it made his breath hitch: it was not the same key. Dull scratched copper instead of time-darkened iron, a simple twine instead of a key ring… but the shape of the key-bit was the same. Severus sprang to his feet, pushed the unfamiliar key into the keyhole and turned. The door opened immediately.

"Mum!"

It was dark inside. He flicked the light switch. The light came on. Severus stopped in his tracks when he saw that the house was empty. Everything was gone: the pictures from the walls, the old Muggle books, Mum's old cauldron from Hogwarts. Even the bookshelves themselves were gone, and the rest of the furniture, too. He sped upstairs and pushed the door to the bedroom – his. Nothing again. He checked the closet, looking for something – anything – any kind of clue as to what had happened, and coming up empty-handed.

Slowly he made it to his parents' bedroom to find it just as empty. Even the Muggle photograph of him as a baby was gone. It looked... it looked like his parents just moved away and left him behind. He shook his head, not wanting to think about that. Even if he was gone for a month, or a year, they wouldn't just move away. They'd be waiting for him, he was sure of that.

But they didn't wait for him. They just... left somewhere, went away and didn't take him.

There was a stinging in his eyes and he pressed his arm to his face, resolved not to cry. It was a mistake of some sort. Maybe, if he just searched hard enough, he'd find out what happened. He walked downstairs and headed into the kitchen. The old fridge was still there and still working. He cautiously opened the door and stared at the only thing that was still left – a whitish plastic bottle of milk. Severus frowned: milk didn't come in bottles like that. It came in fat glass bottles with tinfoil lids.

Severus took the strange container out of the fridge and stared at the paper label wrapped around the body of it. There was expiration date on the bottom of the label. The year was 1999.

A small chill ran down his spine and he dropped the container onto the floor. The plastic lid popped off; milk spilled everywhere, splattering onto his shoes.

He kicked the plastic bottle across the kitchen. It slid across the floor, leaving a wet milky trail, but didn't smash into the wall, like he was hoping it would. Someone's foot stepped on it to halt its movement.

"Hey there," the already sickeningly familiar voice said. Slowly, Severus lifted his eyes. Harry stood before him, showing his empty hands to Severus as if to imply he meant no harm.

"Stay away from me!" Severus blurted out, pulling out his stolen wand and pointing it at Harry. "I want my mum and dad, and you're nobody! I don't even know you!"

Harry didn't seem to be offended. He took a step back – just one – never ceasing to look at Severus. It was maddening.

"Severus," Harry said. "We shouldn't be here. Let's go outside."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" he cried out. The wand shook in his hand.

"Well, there's nothing left here," Harry pointed out.

Severus bit his lip. He didn't want to go with Harry. Something just felt very wrong about it. For a moment he thought that he should just stay in the empty house and wait for something – anything. But Harry was right – there was nothing left in the house. And Harry was the one with the answers, even if he were in no hurry to give them. Gritting his teeth, Severus followed him outside.

They stopped out of the house together.

"Look around," Harry said.

Slowly, afraid of ending up dizzy again, Severus did. It was already dark, but in the faint glow of streetlights he saw some changes in his neighborhood. The Muggle cars parked on the side of the road looked weird – they were all the wrong shapes. And the trees by the neighbour's house, the trees that used to be mere saplings, had grown much, much taller.

"It's a trick," Severus whispered with a shake of his head. "You made the trees grow faster. You changed the Muggle cars. No, I don't believe you."

Harry nodded to his words, seeming not very surprised by Severus' reaction.

"You have the wand," Harry said quietly. "Do you know how to cast a Tempus spell?"

"Yes," Severus said guardedly. "So what?"

"Do it. The magic will tell you what year it is. Wands don't lie, do they?"

Severus stared at him with suspicion.

"Do you think I'm daft? Children aren't allowed to do magic outside the home!"

"They are," Harry corrected him, "if a relative supervises them."

"Are you a relative then?" Severus continued to quiz.

Harry seemed taken a back by the question. "Well, yes, something like that. Do you want to find out what year it is, or not?"

Severus stood still for a moment, and then flicked the wand. 

**o-o-o**

It took Severus a minute to absorb the results of the spell.

Harry watched him with concern as Severus slowly sat down on the porch and bowed his head. Just as slowly, Harry sat by his side and stared at the dark street, faintly illuminated by the few streetlights.

"It's true," Severus whispered finally. "I'm in the future."

"You are," Harry agreed. It didn't even sound like much of a lie this time.

"Can I go back?" Severus asked in a very brittle voice. "Mum said there are such things as time turners. Can't you find one and make me go back?"

Harry sighed tiredly, quickly realizing that the time-travel explanation had problems of its own. "I'm sorry, Severus. It's not that kind of time travel."

Severus sniffled miserably. "So what, I just one day... disappeared and came to be here? Didn't my parents miss me when I was gone?"

"I didn't know your parents," Harry said, selecting his words cautiously as not to compound the lies. "But I can't imagine anyone not missing you. I would have. By the way, how did you get here so fast?"

"The Knight Bus," Severus muttered. There was worry in his voice. "Are you mad that I took your money and your wand?"

"No, no. It's fine," Harry was quick to reassure him. "I mean, I don't want you stealing from me, but I understand why you did it. I – uh, I would have done the same thing in your place. Would have tried to get home. I'll need the wand back though."

Sullenly, and with obvious reluctance, Severus gave the wand back, and then turned around to take another long look at the door of his old house.

"Who lives here now?" Severus asked. "Why is it empty?"

"Nobody lives there anymore. It's... er... property of Ministry of Magic now."

"Why would the Ministry of Magic want our house?" Severus asked demandingly, firing questions off one by one. "And why am I with you? Who are you? Why do you even care about all this?"

"It's... a bit of a long story," Harry replied, feeling like some sort of wall was growing between them with every vague response he gave. "But I do care for you very much. I promise."

They were silent for a while. Severus curled into himself even more to rest his chin on his knees. Harry waited patiently. When it became clear that Severus wouldn't budge or say anything, Harry spoke up again. "It's late. We should get home. I'll Apparate us to Angle Street."

"I don't want to go. I want to stay here," Severus whispered stubbornly. "I don't understand what's happening to me. Am I a ghost? Someone who thinks he's alive, but he's really dead?"

Severus' question hit him hard. Harry felt a lump at the back of his throat and at first he could only shake his head. "No. No, you're not a ghost, I promise," he answered, rising to his feet and extending his hand to Severus. "You're very much alive. Honest."

The reply didn't seem to reassure Severus a single bit.

"I want to stay here," he repeated obstinately, still not budging from the doorstep of his old home. But Harry could see his resolve beginning to wane.

"There's nothing for you here," Harry said. He instantly regretted his words; they came out more cruel than he'd intended.

Slowly and numbly Severus rose to his feet. He allowed Harry to take his hand.

As he was about to Apparate them back home, Harry heard Severus' response. "There's nothing for me anywhere." 

**o-o-o**

The bookshop was closed. The customers were gone, carrying their purchases with them. Roland Paige sighed, using a moist cloth to wipe the dust off the bookshelves. His tenant had borrowed his wand and seemed to be in no hurry to give it back. It was most inconsiderate, and he likely should have refused, but saying "no" to Harry Potter himself seemed... unwise. Especially so if Harry Potter was now in league with Wild, who seemed to be intent on running for the Minister of Magic next election.

If he could get away with it, he'd probably thrown out all of Wild's books from his shop, never mind the profit they brought. But it seemed unwise to attract undue attention with an action like that. At least not now, when so much was at stake.

Roland let out a disgusted grunt. In the last year, he's become much 'wiser' than he ever thought he would.

Someone knocked on the door – three times, and after a pause, just once. Roland lifted his head. "You've got the key. Enter."

The door opened with a loud squeak. The visitor's enormous frame filled a substantial amount of shop's space.

"Where have you been?" Roland demanded. "I expected you hours ago."

"Calm down. I'm back now, ain't I? Some boy wanted to go to Manchester."

Roland's eyes widened. "You realize that boy is one of the de-aged, don't you?" When Ben didn't deny it, Roland slammed his hand on the counter. "Ben! You shouldn't have stopped for him, and you most certainly shouldn't have taken him anywhere. What did you do that for?"

"Felt bad for him, I reckon," Ben spoke thoughtfully and uncertainly, as if he himself wasn't quite sure why he did what he did. "Took him to some old house, _his _old house, I imagine. The child's just lookin' for answers..."

"There are no answers in that house!" Roland hissed at him, incensed. "The Ministry would have stripped it bare! What are you trying to do – go to prison for interfering with the Second Chances program and leave me to do all the work on my own? The first printing is tonight!"

Ben sulked. "Fine. You're right. I shouldn't have. But I'm here now, ain't I? So what do you need me to do?"

Mollified by Ben's concession, Roland allowed himself a small smile. "Help me come up with a title."

Ben roared with laughter at that, throwing his head back and holding his sides. Roland glared at him.

"Oy, mate, all this shouting; and you're - you're just upset 'cuz you can't come up with a title!"

It was Roland's turn to sulk now. "I'm not good with titles."

"Okay, okay," Ben's laughter subsided. "Messengers of Truth?"

"That's horrible."

"Heralds of Chaos?"

"Now you're just being stupid."

Ben scowled, clearly not pleased with his efforts being mocked. "All right, all right. There, I've got it." He paused dramatically, while Roland watched him, tapping his fingers on the counter impatiently. "Whispers of Freedom!" Ben declared in a thunderous voice. "Yes, and we'll be the Whisperers!" Roland groaned. "What? You don't like that either?"

Roland hung his head in resignation.

"It'll have to do." 

**To Be Continued...  
><strong>


	9. A Different Kind of War

**A Different Kind of War  
><strong>

****Severus woke up when the first of the morning sun streamed through the window. He rubbed his eyes sleepily. It took him a few moments to remember where he was or why. He was in the future now, with some weird bloke called Harry. His parents were living somewhere in the past without him, and he couldn't go back to them. He'd cried himself to sleep last night; fortunately, this bloke Harry never heard. Severus would have likely died of embarrassment if Harry came up to soothe him.

He threw the duvet off and twitched: he'd fallen asleep still fully dressed. In fact, he hadn't changed those clothes since he'd first woken up wearing them a day ago. It felt uncomfortable. He didn't have anything else to change to, but at least, he could shower.

Severus stomped off into the shower and shut the door. He let the water run for a while and proceeded to unbutton his shirt. Slipping it off, he noticed something on his left forearm – something that hadn't been there before. He turned his arm and stared at it.

What he saw made his blood run cold. A serpent and a skull, woven together, were engraved into his skin.

A wave of pure terror washed over him. It was bad, no worse than bad, it meant something horrible. He was sure of it somehow, even though he didn't know why. For a long minute he simply stood still, unable to move, his shirt still hanging off one shoulder. When he finally managed to open his mouth, he screamed. 

**o-o-o**

When he heard Severus shout, Harry jumped up to run to him. Severus was already speeding down the stairs, his shirt trailing behind him and his left arm outstretched.

"Did you do this to me?" Severus demanded as soon as he flew into the sitting room. "What is this thing?"

Harry stared at the Dark Mark on Severus' arm. He almost swore out loud. He had completely forgotten about it.

"What is this thing?" Severus repeated, his voice shaking. "And don't you bloody tell me that it's a long story!"

"It's nothing," Harry heard himself saying numbly. "Really, Severus. Don't worry about it. This... thing... it doesn't matter."

Severus glared at him, his eyes bright with rage.

"Easy for you to say, I bet you haven't got one of these!"

_It's not bloody easy for me to say_, Harry almost shouted back, but bit his tongue at the last moment. The temptation to lash out and yell back was still strong – he was surprised by how many nasty thoughts the sight of the Dark Mark brought back.

He just barely managed to keep himself from saying something he'd regret later. Harry turned around and walked into the kitchen. He sat down at the small dining table and slipped his hands under the glasses to rub his eyes.

Severus dropped into the chair across the table from him and rested his elbows on the table.

"You're lying to me," he accused. "You're keeping stuff from me. I don't like that."

"I don't like that either," Harry said before he could think. He was about to curse himself – but his rash response seemed to mollify Severus, just a bit.

"Then why are you doing it?" Severus asked.

Harry took a deep breath. The wall that grew between them with every lie he told felt almost impenetrable now.

"I took an oath when I adopted you," Harry said. Severus issued a derisive snort at the mention of adoption, but Harry continued. "The story of how you came to be here is really very long and very complicated. I took a magical oath that I wouldn't discuss it with you. If I break that oath, the Ministry of Magic will know instantly and will take you away from me. I'd never be able to see you again."

Severus gave him a hostile stare. "I'm fine with that."

It hurt to hear that more than Harry was willing to admit. Maybe because he didn't expect the eleven year old Snape to hate him as much as the older Snape did. For a while, he was silent. He knew what he had to say next, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"You aren't going to tell me, are you?" Severus asked, a mixture of resentment and resignation in his voice.

"I'm going to give you a choice," Harry said. "If you decide you want to know everything right now, I will tell you."

"And they – the Ministry will give me to someone else?" Severus asked, not seeming terribly bothered by the prospect.

"Yes. Though we can be clever about it and make our own arrangements beforehand. We can find a good family, someone you'll get along with, who'd be willing to take over the adoption from me."

"That sounds good," Severus said. "What's the other option?"

"You could wait," Harry said, just barely able to keep his voice from breaking and hating the fact that even at eleven, Snape apparently had the power to drive him to tears. "Stay with me. I will look for a way out of the oath I took. It will take some time, but I will find a way to tell you everything."

A long silence ensued. 

Harry knew that giving a choice like that to Severus was not even a gamble. It was a sure way to lose him again. Severus would never choose to stay and wait. He'd want to know the truth as soon as possible, and he seemed just fine with the prospect of going to stay with someone else.

Privately, Harry almost wished he could feel the same way, but the thought of letting this eleven year old child go right now was frightening. The Wizarding World was an uncertain place. The de-aged, every single one of them, had enemies they didn't remember, people who had reasons to hate them. Severus most likely did as well – and it wasn't a fact that some other family would be able to protect him. Eleven years old and all alone in the world... Harry knew what that felt like, except Severus had it worse. He didn't even have some nasty relatives who'd begrudgingly pick him up and keep him. He had no one.

And then, there was something else. Harry couldn't put it into words, but was still nagging on him. The other Snape, the adult Snape, who never bothered to give him the time of day, was now gone. It felt like there was unfinished business left between them, an argument that was broken off in mid-sentence. Harry didn't quite know what, if anything, this had to do with the eleven year old child, sitting now in front of him. He only knew that letting Severus go felt impossibly wrong.

Harry held his breath, waiting for Severus to decide.

"Fine," Severus muttered finally.

"Fine what?" Harry asked, dreading what would come next.

"I'll wait. For now. Don't take too long."

Harry let out a breath of shameless relief at that.

"Okay," he said, somehow managing to do so in a normal tone. "Okay, well, I'm glad to hear that."

**o-o-o**

Severus didn't quite understand why he'd agreed to wait. He wanted to know everything, and he still didn't like this Harry bloke. He also had a feeling Harry didn't like him as much as he was letting on, either: the way Harry stared at that snake-and-skull thing made Severus feel like he'd done something wrong. Still, something in Harry's offer made Severus pause and consider.

Choice. Harry gave him a choice.

Severus liked that, having a choice. That meant he could change his mind later. He wasn't sure that someone else – even a nicer person than Harry – would let him have choices.

They had breakfast together and Harry went out. A little later, he returned with a bag full of purchases – several changes of clothes, some books and a few Wizarding games. Severus grabbed the bag and ran upstairs – he knew he needed a shower badly and he wasn't about to wait for Harry to tell him he stank.

When Severus finally returned downstairs, feeling much fresher, damp hair pulled back and tied off into a ponytail, Harry gave him a bright smile.

"So I have an idea," Harry said. "How about we go to my friends' place and have lunch there?"

Severus made a nasty face at the thought that there were more people like Harry around.

Harry pretended not to notice. 

**o-o-o**

Harry firecalled Hermione before coming over and bringing Severus with him. Still, when the two of them stepped out from the Floo into her sitting room, Hermione could barely keep herself from weeping. It was almost impossible to reconcile the sight of an eleven year old boy in front of her with Severus Snape who had been sitting on her couch five days ago, holding little Bellatrix in his arms.

"Hi," Hermione said. Her voice shook slightly, but she managed to gain control of it. "Hello, Severus. I'm Hermione."

"Oh." Severus gave her a brief, sullen stare. He looked around, his gaze resting on the bookshelves first, then on the family portrait – of Ron, Hermione and Bellatrix together. "You're married," he muttered. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed.

Severus looked at her again.

"Mum says only stupid girls marry young. But you have a house already, so he must be rich."

For a long moment Hermione was speechless. Harry seemed like he didn't know what to say either – he just smiled sheepishly and apologetically. And then, Hermione laughed out loud in spite of herself. Harry chuckled as well, covering his mouth with his hand.

Severus flushed in embarrassment and looked away, not sharing the explosion of mirth that followed his words.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said finally when she noticed Severus' discomfort. "I'm going to go get the baby. Harry, you know where everything is, so you can start making lunch. I'll just be a moment."

**o-o-o**

Bellatrix didn't cry that afternoon. In Hermione's arms, she cooed softly and allowed herself to be fed without any fuss at all. Severus stared at her with undivided attention, his eyes shifting from the infant to Hermione and then back.

"She doesn't look like you. She doesn't look like your husband, either," he said finally, this time with a great deal more caution, expressing only observations and not conclusions. Privately, Harry was grateful for that.

"No," Hermione agreed. "She is adopted."

Slowly and warily, Severus came up to Hermione and reached for Bella's left arm. Hermione went rigid but did nothing to stop him. With surprising gentleness, Severus rolled up the infant's sleeve to reveal the tiny Dark Mark.

Harry saw Severus' shoulders flinch.

"She's like me," Severus whispered, tracing the image of the serpent with his fingertip. "Who are we? How many of us are there?"

Hermione's lips trembled, but she gave no answer to that. Severus waited in silence. Eventually he lifted his head and met Hermione's eyes. "Let me guess. You can't talk about it either."

Another long silence ensued. Hermione covered her mouth with her palm as if trying to hold back rash words or a sob. Harry bowed his head, not really sure what to say either, and quietly hating Wild and her ilk. Eventually, Severus was the one to speak.

"Fine," he said, clearly disgruntled. "Can I at least hold her and play with her?" 

**o-o-o**

It rained most of the afternoon and they stayed inside. Severus never seemed to get tired of playing with Bellatrix, likely feeling a kinship of a shared misfortune with her. Eventually she fell asleep and Hermione settled her in a crib she'd brought from upstairs.

The rain stopped and the sun came out. Hermione swung the front door open and a gush of wind blew into the house, making the curtains on the windows flutter like boat sails in the ocean. It was still February, but it the smell of spring was already in the air.

Sprawled on the carpet in front of the hearth, Severus buried his nose in a book he'd pulled from Hermione's shelf. From time to time, he'd lift his hand to touch his throat absently and Harry's heart clenched: Severus' fingers rested where Nagini's teeth had torn through his artery nine months ago. Hermione noticed it too and shook her head sadly.

"Hey, Severus, want to step outside and play in the yard?" Harry asked, doing his best to project some measure of normalcy, and likely, failing miserably. "We could play ball – or... whatever."

Severus turned a page in his book, clearly doing his best to pretend he hadn't heard. Harry left him alone, walked out of the house and sat down on the porch. Hermione joined him, crouching nearby.

"It's scary," she murmured. "Really, really scary."

"Hm?"

"This program of Wild's. They've wiped out his memories, but his old feelings are still there. He still has all his fears, but not the explanation for them. I can't help but wonder..." Hermione's voice trailed off and she didn't finish the statement. She didn't need to. Harry turned around to cast a quick glance at the crib in the sitting room, where, covered by warm quilts, Bellatrix slept.

The sound of Apparition made Harry turn back. The gate opened a moment later and Ron walked in, his jacket damp with rain and a large newspaper under his arm. Harry grinned when he saw him. Ron's presence seemed to calm Hermione's worries. Even Harry couldn't brood quite so much around his friend; Ron's enthusiasm and good cheer were contagious.

"Hey, mate. How's school?" Harry asked.

Ron's face was bright with excitement. "Never mind the school – take a look at this! It's floating all over England – good news spreads fast."

He joined them on the porch and spread out his paper. Harry craned his neck and stared at it: it was not the Daily Prophet or Quibbler. In fact, the paper was something he'd never seen before – the title, "Whispers of Freedom", shouted loudly from the front page.

Hermione began to skim the articles. Harry did as well.

"Oh my. I don't know who those people are, but they've got guts, I'll give them that!" Hermione couldn't contain her enthusiasm. "All that inconvenient information the Ministry was going to erase? They've got their work cut out for them now! The Whisperers will keep track of any books and articles being destroyed and reproduce them in massive quantities! And drop them off everywhere! I wish I could help them, I really do!" Hermione cried out excitedly, leaping to her feet.

Laughing quietly, Ron tugged on her sleeve to urge her to sit down again. She complied with a reluctant sigh and settled down, leaning into his embrace. Ron hugged her tightly and stared at Harry.

"You're terribly quiet. What do you think, mate?"

"I think they've got the right idea," Harry mused, running his hand over the pages. They smelled like old books and fresh ink. "You know, Ron, we really are at war. Only a different kind this time: a war of information. I really think this is the way to do it."

"So what, are you saying we should find those Whisperers and join them?" Ron asked thoughtfully, seeming like he was willing to seriously consider that option.

Harry shook his head. If not for Severus and Bellatrix, he'd be the first to suggest it. But now, he knew they had to be cautious, even if they weren't used to playing it safe.

"No. I'm only saying we know what kind of war it is, and we know who the enemy is."

He didn't need to name the enemy. Hermione gave him a long, calculating look. "Well, I'll be the first to say that Wild isn't the humanitarian she claims to be..."

"She's dangerous," Harry said flatly. It was a relief, of sorts, to give voice to all those doubts at once, without mincing words. "I still say the Manor was a setup, even if I can't prove it. But even that aside – the whole de-aging thing has gone too far. We're trapped, we're stuck with that Nondisclosure Oath imposed on us, we can't tell our children the truth – this can't go on. Wild needs to be brought down. There, I've said it."

Hermione took a long time to consider his words. "Yes, you're right," she conceded finally. "Maybe we've been going about it the wrong way. Instead of trying to challenge the logic and ethics of the Second Chances program, we should be gathering information – pure and simple. I'll get stared, and yes, I think you're right – something isn't right about this business with Snape; the whole thing was just a bit too convenient, if you ask me..."

She would have likely talked a lot more, but child's crying interrupted her and she got up to rush inside. Harry and Ron lingered on the doorstep for a while and then followed her into the house. Severus had fallen asleep right on the carpet in front of the hearth, a book in his hand.

For a long minute Harry just stared at him, wondering what tomorrow might bring for both of them. Then he leaned over to shake Severus' shoulder and tell him it was time to go home.

**To Be Continued...  
><strong>


	10. The Garden and the Snake

**The Garden and the Snake**

****

Next morning brought no new revelations with it and Harry allowed himself a breath of relief. He made breakfast, eggs and toast this time. Severus gobbled the meal up hungrily. Harry himself could barely eat; he was worried about too many things at once, not the least of them – Severus. Harry still didn't quite know what to do with him. Everything he said or did seemed awkward and wrong, somehow.

"What do you do?"

"I'm sorry?" Harry mumbled. The question caught him off guard. He pushed his plate aside and stared back at Severus who was studying him with cool curiosity.

"What do you do every day?" Severus demanded. "Do you go to school? Do you work?"

Harry shook his head, not quite sure how to explain what he did to Severus. His life was busy enough – but he didn't seem to be accomplishing much. In fact, most of the last year was spent making public statements about the dangers of the Second Chances program and trying to figure out how to get Snape out of trouble. He was too distracted for anything else – school was out of the question, work too. Even Ginny somehow faded from his life when Harry didn't answer one firecall too many.

And then, in spite of himself, Harry found himself scowling, irritated that he was now cornered by the reasonable question, the question that the "old" Snape had never bothered to ask.

Severus continued to watch him.

Harry took a deep breath, deciding how to best explain this. "I.. uh. I'm a public figure of sorts. I'm involved in politics."

"What does it mean?"

"I... I meet with people and talk to them about what they do."

Severus stared at him. "But you yourself don't do anything."

"I guess not, no," Harry muttered, his irritation growing.

"You must be very rich or very lazy," Severus summarized, his contemptuous tone suggesting it didn't have to be an "either/or" thing.

Harry bit his lip, resisting the urge to shout at him like he would have, had Snape still been an adult. Across the table from him, Severus smirked, clearly satisfied about being able to get under Harry's skin.

Harry stood up and began to clear the dishes. "Want to go to Hermione's place again?" he asked, as non-confrontationally as he could manage.

Severus shook his head. "I don't like her."

Surprised, Harry turned to look at him. "Why not?"

"She acts like she knows me. I don't like that."

"Oh." It was difficult to argue with that; but Harry was surprised that Severus noticed. He cursed under his breath. He wanted to see Hermione and Ron badly, but the prospect of forcing Severus to do anything didn't sit well with him. "Well," Harry made another attempt at negotiation, "you like Bellatrix, don't you? Would you like to see her again?"

To his relief, Severus gave a slow, guarded nod at that.

They took off to Hermione's a few minutes later. 

**o-o-o**

It was a bright Saturday morning – warm, and not a cloud in the sky. Hermione opened all the windows, allowing the fresh air to course through the little house. The aged wood, warmed by the morning sunshine, smelled like something from her childhood – sunny and carefree. Even Ron, home from school, seemed to be in a lazy mood, his Transfiguration textbook forgotten on the floor by the couch.

She knew the carefree mood would be gone the moment the guests arrived and conversation inevitably turned to "business". Still, it felt good to indulge for the moment.

Bill was the first to arrive and joke that he just wanted to see if his baby brother had wrecked the place yet. Ron laughed at that and for a while they talked about work. Gringotts' security had tightened dramatically since the war.

"Gee, I wonder why," Ron said wryly. Hermione smiled, nostalgic in spite of herself. Their adventures and misadventures during the last year of the war seemed something from another lifetime now.

Neville arrived late, looking sullen and uncomfortable. Things have been strained since he'd dropped Bellatrix at their place, and Neville seemed barely able to meet their eyes, as if expecting to be scolded. Ron noticed that too and said, with his usual directness: "Mate, look – what's done is done. Still friends, right?" The smallest of smiles touched Neville's lips and he let out a long sigh of relief.

It was late morning by the time Harry and Severus arrived. Severus did not spare a single glance for the adults, as if he couldn't be bothered with any of them. He gathered up Bellatrix and the baby bottle in his arms and went outside. Hermione watched him, as he walked steadily and slowly, never looking up. Once in the yard, he found shelter in a tiny gazebo, overgrown with vines. He settled there, holding the bundled up infant in his lap and turning all of his attention to her.

Once Severus seemed comfortable – and out of the way – the conversation resumed and eventually turned to Whispers of Freedom.

"It's a relief like I don't know what – to be able to open a paper and not see her face," Bill said candidly, leaning back on the couch. "That woman is a psycho. I don't understand why so many are listening to her."

Hermione gave him a long, calculated look. "Why do you say that?"

Bill shrugged. "I hear things. Last summer she drove the goblins absolutely crazy – she wanted the best vault in the bank, with zero chance of break in. Some sort of government stuff. It took two weeks to come up with something suitable. When the vault was finally set up, she wasn't happy because it was too expensive – thirty galleons a month. But what did she expect?"

"What does she care, her Second Chances program pays for it, I'm sure," Harry pointed out.

"That's the thing. She insisted on paying for it herself." Bill shrugged again. "Said it was her small way of making a difference, or something. Must leave quite a dent in her personal budget – but what do we care?"

Hermione found her heart skip a beat. "Do you know what she keeps there?" she asked.

"Afraid I don't. I doubt there's a way to find out, either – if the program paid for it, she'd need to be accountable to someone as to what the money was going for. But paying for it herself – she doesn't need to tell anybody."

"Shady," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Putting it mildly," Harry agreed.

"Can you find out what she keeps there?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Bill said. "I'm not that involved in Gringotts' London affairs – I just do field work."

"But you could ask!" Hermione insisted, trying not to sound too desperate and not succeeding. "Oh, please, Bill! Ask around – this could be important! This could be the break we need!"

Bill laughed out loud. "You sound like you're out to overthrow the government." When nobody else laughed he looked around and shook his head. "You're crazy, all of you."

Hermione didn't deny it. "Will you help?" she asked bluntly and held her breath, waiting for his response.

It took Bill a long time to answer. When he did, he spoke with a mixture of resignation and amusement. "You realize, if I get fired for violating a client's confidentiality, the bank will take this house away."

"Not to worry," Ron quipped, clearly bothered by the prospect of creating trouble for his brother, but doing his best to keep his tone light. "We'll just all move to Harry's place." 

**o-o-o**

The gazebo was small, shaded and chilly, but Severus didn't mind. The vines created a thick wall that made it a cozy shelter. It was just like being inside – his head didn't spin from the world that was too big for him.

Bellatrix slumbered in his arms, and he stroked her hair carefully with his index finger. She smiled in her sleep.

Something stirred in the thick of the vines and Severus turned his head. The sight made his blood run cold. A snake – a big one, much bigger than him, wormed its way through the wall of the gazebo. The snake's eyes stared at him, watching him intently.

He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out. He wanted to run, but his entire body shook and he could barely move a muscle. All he could manage was to turn sideways, curling up to shield Bellatrix with his body.

The snake would strike any moment, he knew that – he saw it slither through the vine, getting ready to attack. And then, just out of the corner of his eye he saw someone's wand, pointing at the snake. No sound was made, but the snake deflated, changed shape, turning into a tiny critter of some sort, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. The critter scurried away, disappearing behind the vines.

Severus let out a deep, painful breath that came out with an embarrassing whimper. He lifted his eyes, feeling lightheaded and dizzy and stared at the man holding the wand. It was the tall redhead he'd seen in the house briefly.

"Nothing to worry about," the redhead said. "Just a Scuttling Chameleon. The yard is full of magical vermin – they really are quite harmless, they just try to make themselves look big and scary. And somehow they always know what'll scare you."

Severus nodded. He briefly wondered how the chameleon knew a snake would scare him. In fact, he wasn't too sure why he just froze in one place, instead of running for his life. He felt heat rush to his cheeks and glanced at his rescuer, embarrassed. But the man didn't make fun of him.

"My name's Bill. You must be Severus."

Severus nodded, hating that everyone seemed to know who he was. He looked at Bill intently, studying his face. His attention was drawn to the gruesome scars, crossing all of Bill's face – as if a giant claw had ripped through his flesh from ear to lips.

Bill didn't seem offended by his staring. He even smiled slightly and gave Severus a small nod, as if inviting a question.

"Are they cursed scars?" Severus asked. Mum had told him that cursed wounds never fully healed.

For a second it seemed like he asked too much: Bill appeared to be surprised by the question, but answered, just the same. "I hope not. I think – I think, if you're a good person, nothing about you is cursed."

A moment later he was gone.

**o-o-o**

It was late when Harry finally took Severus home. To his own surprise, once they were back at Harry's place, Severus found himself wishing he could have stayed at Ron's and Hermione's place. Harry was weird and quiet, and when Severus asked questions, Harry seemed bothered. Severus didn't like that. He didn't like Hermione much either, but he was getting used to her, like an unavoidable annoyance.

In fact, the only one Severus liked so far was Bellatrix.

It was probably weird that his only friend was a baby – but then again, he never had friends his own age. _Except for Lily_, he thought wistfully. Something ached inside at the memory of the two of them playing together. He wondered why he hadn't thought of her sooner and now that he did, he wondered if he should try and see her again.

He half-suspected it wasn't a good idea. _She's all grown up now_, he thought, quickly counting up the years. She was thirty nine! She probably got married and had children. He wondered if she'd remember him.

He sulked silently for a while, feeling cheated by the fact that Lily was an adult and grew up without him. Even if she still remembered him, he wondered if they'd have anything to talk about. For a while he wasn't sure what was worse – for her to have forgotten him, or for her to remember him and not care.

Still, he reckoned there was only one way to find out.

Slowly he walked to the couch in the sitting room. Harry was lying on his back, his eyes shut. Acting quickly, before he could change his mind, Severus poked Harry in the shoulder, hard. Harry flinched but didn't open his eyes.

"I need your help," Severus managed to say. He hated saying it, it embarrassed him. But he couldn't find Lily all on his own, and he continued on, determined. "I have a friend. She is a witch."

Harry went all rigid at his words, as if, even with his eyes shut, he'd seen a snake of his own.

"Her name is Lily!" Severus blurted out. "Lily Evans, she's got red hair and she's a witch! I want you to help me find her."

Slowly, Harry propped himself to sit up. His head was bowed and he didn't look at Severus.

"She's dead," Harry said in a weirdly calm voice that made Severus' skin crawl. "I'm sorry."

Somehow, Severus didn't think Harry was lying this time. There was something in Harry's tone that made Severus believe him.

Still, he didn't know what to make of it. It scared him to think that Lily wasn't around. Somehow, the world without her seemed wrong - and he couldn't understand why something would pull him out of the world where Lily lived and push him all the way into the future without her.

"Why is everyone dead?" Severus asked in a small whisper. Harry didn't answer. "How do you even know she's dead?"

It took Harry a very long time to reply, as if he was trying to work something out. Eventually he spoke. "She was my mother."

Harry lifted his head and opened his eyes, looking directly at Severus without blinking.

It seemed unreal, but for a second it felt like Lily herself was looking at him, her gaze finding him across all the lost years separating them. At first Severus couldn't understand it, but then, he realized why: Harry had green eyes, too.

**To Be Continued...**


	11. So Long Ago

**So Long Ago**

****

The following morning, Severus woke up early. For a quick second, he had a feeling that something nasty and horrible had happened the night before, and tried pushing it away. It didn't quite work, because he finally remembered what did happen – Lily was dead, Lily was gone, he was living in the future without her. He curled into himself and bit the pillow, not knowing what he would do in the world where he had no one.

But the world seemed unaware that Lily was gone from it. The world continued to live a life of its own. The streets behind the window came awake eventually and Severus could hear the noise of crowds flowing into the book shop on the first floor.

Severus got up and made the bed, moving automatically. He washed up and made it downstairs. Harry was cooking breakfast again and gave him a small smile that seemed fake.

Harry was quiet – quieter than Severus had ever seen him. Severus looked at the toast and chocolate spread that Harry gave him and his stomach rebelled at the sight of food. He could tell that Harry was angry with him, even if he was trying his best to smile. The smiles made it worse, somehow.

Severus' mum got that way too, when Severus did something really bad – like the time he'd set fire to the grass by the river. The fire had spread too far, devouring the shrubs and the trees - and did more damage than he thought it would – the sparks flew all the way to the neighbour's house, although luckily the house didn't burn. Mum was all quiet the entire day, never saying anything, as if what Severus did was so bad that even yelling wouldn't do. Privately, Severus began to wonder if she'd ever speak to him again. When evening came, and she finally slammed her hand on the counter and screamed at him, Severus breathed a sigh of relief.

But Harry never screamed at him. Somehow, Severus had a feeling he never would.

It meant that Severus did something really, really bad; something that made people go all quiet, maybe forever. He suspected it had something to do with Lily, Harry's mother. It hurt to think that, more than Severus ever imagined anything in the world might hurt. He bit his lip, trying not to cry.

When he left the table and went back upstairs without eating anything, Harry didn't seem to notice. 

**o-o-o**

The Sunday morning brought with it a drizzle of rain and freezing wind. Bellatrix was crying again, seeming oblivious to Ron's efforts to comfort her. Feeling slightly guilty for leaving Ron with a fussing baby, Hermione kissed him goodbye, saying she'd be back soon enough.

A few minutes later, she emerged from the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron and entered the Diagon Alley. A gush of wind struck and she found herself shivering in spite of the raincoat she wore. Hermione hastened her pace and stuck her hands in the pockets of the coat in search of warmth. Her numb fingers found a small paper label. It was the price tag she'd cut off from Severus' shirt when she and Harry were about to take him home.

She found the apparel shop, Gabriella's Garb quickly enough – it was an old, well-known one, only steps away from Gringotts. Luckily, the shop was open, even if the rainy Sunday morning didn't bring many customers.

The shop owner, Gabriella, presumably, was a woman who seemed old enough to be Dumbledore's mother. She lifted her head from the newspaper on the counter and gave Hermione a friendly smile.

Still shivering, Hermione pulled out the label and showed it to her. "It came from a shirt someone bought a while go," she said neutrally. "It was a boy's shirt, green, chequered. Do you have another one?"

Gabriella nodded to an empty chair beside the counter. "Oh yes, I should have another one somewhere. Sit down, dear, I'll just be a minute – would you like some tea?"

Hermione took the tea and sat down, cradling the hot mug in her frozen fingers. Gabriella walked off to the clothing rack, and a minute later returned with the shirt – identical to the one that Severus wore that day.

Hermione held her breath. The next question would have to be posed carefully – she knew that.

"I suppose not many people shop here," she observed.

"Not many," Gabriella confirmed. "Expensive clothing. Very fine, very good quality. People these days don't appreciate quality like they used to."

"But some still do." Hermione blew on the tea, still hot. She waited, praying and hoping that Gabriella would take the bait and chat. The old woman didn't disappoint her.

"Why yes. In fact, someone else bought a shirt just like that only a week ago. Emma Wild, you know her from the papers, I'm sure."

"I think everyone knows her," Hermione said. She could only hope that the smile she managed to give wasn't too crooked.

"Ah, but I knew her when she was still young." Gabriella smiled dreamily. "She used to come every Sunday with her little girl. Emma never married; the girl lived with the father, you see, but Emma had her on weekends. She spoiled her rotten, that one. That little girl was so lucky."

Hermione nodded absently. She briefly recalled the photograph of Emma Wild with her daughter and wondered what could have happened to turn a loving mother into the mastermind of human misery.

"Who was the father?" Hermione asked, doing her best to keep her tone light and conversational.

"Oh, I don't know. Emma didn't say. Or maybe she did say and I don't remember." Gabriella shook her head with a rueful smile. "It was so long ago. Thirty years, perhaps. I've lived too long, I think, because I've forgotten too many things. I remember the oddest things at all the wrong times – and never when I want to. How's the tea?"

"It's very good." Hermione finished the tea and stood up. She paid for the shirt. It cost half a month of her stipend, but there was no graceful way out of making the purchase. Still, the purchase seemed to endear her to Gabriella.

"You should come again," Gabriella said, wrapping the shirt carefully and packing it into a large paper bag.

"I believe I will," Hermione said. "I really enjoyed talking to you. You seem to know people. That's very rare. Most shop owners don't take time to know their customers." Gabriella's smile got bigger. "And I think I'm going to die of curiosity now," Hermione added in a small whisper, with a suitably abashed grin to match. "I so want to know more about Wild. She's a really unique woman." In a conspiratorial voice, Hermione added, "You know, if you ever remember anything about those days, just send me an owl or firecall me any time you like."

Hermione wrote down her name and address on a scrap of paper. Gabriella took it and placed it carefully on the counter.

"Have a lovely day, my dear."

Feeling quite accomplished and pleased with herself, Hermione smiled back and left the shop, carrying the green shirt in a large paper bag.

**o-o-o**

The morning seemed to drag on and on. Severus didn't eat, and ran upstairs to lock himself in his bedroom. Harry sighed tiredly, wondering if he should go up and talk to him. Eventually, he decided against it – he really was not very good with words and everything he said to Severus seemed to be only making things worse.

Eventually he shuffled downstairs into the bookshop. Roland Paige gave him a polite smile and sold him the weekend edition of the Prophet. It was thick – and Harry cringed, imagining how many photographs of Wild would be in the paper this time. When Harry made it upstairs, he opened the paper and saw his own picture in it, on the front page. The breaking news was that he – Harry – was now supporting the Second Chances program. Emma Wild apparently took the liberty of writing his statements for him. Harry skimmed them and cringed again. Apparently, he even made a statement condemning Whispers of Freedom and asking concerned citizens to step forward with any information they had.

That was the last drop, and Harry tossed the entire thing into the hearth. It caught fire with a gratifying hiss. For a few minutes Harry watched with grim satisfaction as the flames warped and deformed the pages with his face on them. Just as the last of the newspaper was destroyed, the Floo sparked up again – this time with a firecall coming in. Hermione's face appeared and, without any preamble, she said,

"Harry, can you come over? We need to talk."

**To Be Continued...**


	12. When Words Don't Sound Right

**When Words Don't Sound Right **

This time Severus didn't protest when Harry came up to the bedroom and told him they were going to Hermione's place. Privately, Harry wished Severus would complain and argue, but Severus simply obeyed him in absolute silence.

This was bad, Harry knew that much. He just didn't know how to fix it. He suspected that resolving this dead silence would take something huge, something extraordinary – and he didn't know if he had it in him to give.

It had stopped raining when they got to Hermione's, but it was still chilly. This time, Severus made no move to go outside. He looked at the small gazebo in the yard, and then went straight to Bellatrix. When she was finally in his arms, Severus held on to her with desperation, as if she was his only grip on sanity. Hermione asked him to take Bellatrix upstairs and Severus complied without a single word of objection.

Harry stared at him for a brief moment, but then Hermione took his hand and led him outside. Ron joined the two of them on the porch a minute later.

"I wanted to talk about Wild, but I didn't want to talk over the Floo network," Hermione said, once Severus and the baby were upstairs. "Harry, tell me, what makes you think the Manor was a setup?"

"It's the whole thing," Harry said, "it just feels weird, you know? The way she firecalled me right after Severus was captured. Like she just dropped the news on me and waited for my next move. It's like she just wanted me to beg her to stop the de-aging and give her something in return."

Hermione nodded quickly. "I think you're right, Harry. You know, something seemed off about the whole thing from the start! Wild really made it seem like the de-aging process was stopped on the spur of the moment, just because you asked her. But when we came to pick Snape up, he was dressed in this brand new shirt with the price tag still attached to it! Honestly, if it was a spur of the moment thing, where did she get the shirt? Harry, where does one buy a child's shirt at three in the morning?"

Harry lifted his hands in the air. "I give up. Where?"

"Well, you don't, that's the thing. She bought it beforehand. I went to that shop today and checked. Harry, Wild bought that shirt a week ago! She always _knew_ that she wouldn't de-age Severus all the way to infancy! She was counting on you to interfere and beg her to stop, see?"

Harry pressed his hands to his temples. His head was beginning to pound from Hermione's rapid talking.

"So Wild played me," he muttered. "She knew I'd want to save as much of Snape's memories and personality as possible. And she let me do it in exchange for my support. Just wonderful." He privately wished someone would just kill him now to put him out of his misery.

Hermione gave him a pitiful look. "I don't even know why she bothered, I mean, her position was pretty secure even without your support. But I guess you can never have too much power."

"I guess," Harry muttered and, completely sickened, buried his face in his hands. Ron patted him on the back.

"It's okay, mate, look at the bright side," Ron said.

"What's that?" Harry muttered.

"It can only get better from now on."

"Yeah, that's what I thought two days ago," Harry said bitterly.

Somewhere upstairs, Bellatrix began to cry. Ron rose to his feet, gave Harry another pat on his back and went to tend to her. Hermione stayed on the porch next to Harry. He felt her arm around him, hugging him like she used to back in school. Shamelessly, he clung to her, wanting her to make everything better, and knowing that she couldn't.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said softly. "The bitch of it is that it's not really enough to prove anything with the Wizengamot. I mean, it's all circumstantial for now – and she will probably talk her way out of it, if confronted..."

"Yeah," Harry whispered. "I know."

"You didn't see today's paper, did you?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"I saw. I hate her."

She gave him another tight hug. "Do you regret it?" she asked in a small voice.

It took Harry a minute to consider her words. It made him sick to be used by Wild this way, but deep down, he knew that given a chance, he would have done the same thing all over again. Snape couldn't stand him back then – and now, either. Chances were they would never be truly okay with each other, at least Harry didn't see how they could be. Still, he couldn't have let Snape disappear completely.

"No. I'd do it all over again," Harry said.

There must have been more despair than usual in his voice, because Hermione gave his shoulder a small shake, urging him to look up.

"Harry, what happened? You're so miserable this morning, you and Severus both. What's going on?"

"He... uh, he was asking for her," Harry said wretchedly.

"Your mum?" Hermione checked.

"Yeah. I told him she was gone."

"And?" Hermione prodded gently.

"And nothing. We didn't really talk after that."

"Why not?" Hermione asked with concern, but without any accusation.

"I don't know," Harry confessed tiredly. "I can't. I open my mouth – and...can't say anything. And when I do, the words don't sound right."

For a long time Hermione was quiet, staring at the ground in front of her. Harry followed her gaze: she watched the small puddle of water pulling on the path at the doorstep and a tiny Scuttling Chameleon crossing it. The critter never bothered to try and make itself into something scary, Harry noted absently. Maybe because it somehow figured out that nothing scared him and Hermione anymore.

"Are you still angry with Severus?" Hermione asked softly.

Harry shook his head. "I – no, not with him. He's just eleven years old. He's done nothing wrong. But the other Snape – yeah, I think so. For everything. Including my parents." Harry found his hands balling into fists automatically. "I don't know how you forgive something like that. Maybe you can't."

"You should probably find a way," Hermione said, very cautious.

"I _should_," Harry repeated venomously, instantly irritated by what felt like a lecture coming on. "Why should I? He never needed me forgiving him. I tried talking to him, but he couldn't be bothered."

Hermione reached for his fingers, still curled into a fist. She slowly urged him to open his palm, then placed her hand in his.

"It doesn't matter what he needed," she said. "The only thing that matters now is what the eleven year old Severus needs. And children always know when you're angry with them."  
>"Then it's all hopeless," Harry muttered. "I mean – you talk like you've got it all figured out, but have you forgiven Bellatrix Lestrange for what she did to you in the Manor? Like, honestly?"<p>

Hermione's hand slipped out of his then. She turned away and Harry could see her curling into herself, like she suddenly felt too cold.

"I'm trying to," she whispered finally, now miserable as well. "Whenever I feed her, or change her, or sing to her. And sometimes it hurts so bad, and every time I feel like I'm... I don't know. Beginning to disappear, or something like that. So stupid," Hermione added, embarrassed. "Because she – this baby – really, really hasn't done anything wrong."

Harry laughed out loud bitterly. "We're really screwed up, aren't we?"

Hermione chuckled unhappily as well. "It'll work out, Harry. You and Severus will work it out somehow."

Harry rose to his feet. "Yeah, well, maybe. I should try and feed him for starters."

Hermione stood up as well and gave him a long, disapproving look. "You didn't feed him in the morning? Harry!"

"I cooked," Harry replied sullenly, resentful of being blamed. "He didn't eat. It's not my fault."

"Well, let me try. I've got just the thing – fresh croissants and chocolate spread, and..."

She continued to talk some more, all about food and children, but Harry stopped listening. He didn't understand how one could switch so easily from a conversation that made one's insides all knot up, to talking about food. Then again, maybe to Hermione it was all the same: feeding someone, or forgiving someone, it made no difference.

She went inside eventually. He could hear her calling Severus down to breakfast. Harry didn't go into the house. He stretched his legs and stared up into the sky. It was still mostly grey, but some of the clouds began to part, and he could see the tiniest hint of the pale blue, high above and far away.

**To Be Continued...**


	13. Future Friendly

**Future Friendly**

It was Monday morning and it looked like they were going to have another one of their silent breakfasts.

Busy cooking (if using one's wand to brown a slice of toast could be called that), Harry didn't talk. Severus didn't ask any questions: there seemed to be no point. What he needed to know, Harry wouldn't tell him.

But the thought of all that silence during breakfast was sickening. As soon as the plate with toast was placed in front of him, Severus grabbed the two slices of bread plus the entire jar of the chocolate spread and galloped upstairs back to his room. Harry didn't try to stop him.

Belatedly, Severus realized that in thus retreating, he made a serious tactical error: he hadn't brought a spoon or a knife with him. He didn't want to go back downstairs, so he simply tossed the bread on the floor and proceeded to dip his index finger into the jar and lick the chocolate spread off.

His mum would have never let him get away with something like that, not in a million years. She would be yelling at him by now and dragging him back into the kitchen "to eat like you're supposed to." And to his own surprise, he found his eyes stinging: he had a feeling that nobody would ever yell at him again.

At least Harry wouldn't. Harry was quiet. He was quiet in a way that made Severus believe more than ever he'd done something really bad, so bad that nothing really mattered anymore. And he didn't even know what that was!

Severus threw the jar of chocolate spread at the window. The glass of the window gave a tiny hairline crack, but didn't shatter. The jar fell onto the floor and rolled under the bed.

Severus tensed when he heard Harry's footsteps, approaching the bedroom door. For a quick second he dared to hope, that maybe Harry would finally yell at him and... and everything would be normal. But Harry simply stood behind the closed door for a little while and then asked, "Severus? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine!" Severus screamed on top of his lungs. "Leave me alone!"

"Okay." He heard the sound of retreating footsteps. Severus clenched his fists in helpless rage, wanting to scream again, or break something.

He likely would have done something like that, but the sound of the knock on the door to Harry's flat made him stop. There were muffled voices downstairs, and then Severus heard his name. He wiped his chocolate covered fingers on the duvet and sped downstairs as fast as he could.

There was a stranger in their sitting room. The strange man was very old and very tiny, even shorter than Severus.

"Hello, Severus," the old man said, a sunny smile appearing on his wrinkly face. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Filius Flitwick."

Severus gave him a small nod and didn't say anything. It seemed like this Filius Flitwick knew him too. It was maddening, Severus couldn't understand why everyone around him seemed to know him.

"You're eleven, aren't you?" Flitwick asked softly.

"Yes. So what?" Severus suspected he was being rude, but he didn't really care much.

Flitwick didn't seem bothered by his rudeness. He smiled even more and pulled out some sort of letter from the folds of his robe.

"I teach at a very fine school for wizards and witches," Flitwick said peacefully. "Hogwarts it's called; perhaps you've heard of it?"

Severus nodded furiously, feeling a spark of excitement, the first time this morning. His mum went to Hogwarts and she told him all about it.

"We usually send out invitations to prospective students with owls," Flitwick said. "But in this case, I thought I would stop by and deliver it personally." The envelope with a large brown wax seal was placed in Severus' hands. Harry did nothing to stop it. "Would you like to attend?"

Severus nodded again, happily this time. This was the first good news since he woke up in the future. He wouldn't have to stay in Harry's flat for years and years. Come next fall, he'd go away and make new friends, and Harry... Harry could be all quiet on his own without him, Severus thought maliciously. The thought made him smile and then he cast a cautious look in Harry's direction. "You'll let me go, won't you?"

"Of course," Harry said.

Severus breathed a sigh of relief and ripped the letter open. It was just like mum had told him: the list of books and equipment he'd need. He scowled, trying to imagine how much it would cost. He knew that wands were expensive, cauldrons, too.

Seeing him frown, Harry rested his hand on Severus' shoulder. "We'll buy everything you need. Don't worry."

Severus shrugged his hand off. Harry's words should have made him relieved, but for some reason he felt embarrassed more than anything, as if there was something wrong with Harry buying him stuff.

Severus took a deep breath, knowing that now of all times wasn't a time to throw a tantrum. His freedom from Harry was within his reach now. Severus gave Flitwick a cautious look. "You said you teach at Hogwarts. What do you teach?"

"I teach Charms," Flitwick responded.

"What house are you with?"

Flitwick's eyebrow lifted in surprise, as if he didn't expect Severus to know about the different houses yet. "Ravenclaw," he said. "The house of the clever and the studious – a very good one, if I say so myself."

"Do you have any books about Hogwarts with you?" Severus asked.

Flitwick was well-prepared for his visit. He pulled out an old dusty book from the folds of his robe. He wiped some of the dust off with his hand, then marched to the dining table, pulled up a chair and jumped to sit on it. Flitwick's chin barely reached the table surface. Severus stood next to him and they looked through the books together.

"Gryffindor is the house of the brave and the loyal," Flitwick spoke. "Ravenclaw – well, I just told you about it, I like it very much. Hufflepuff welcomes the hardworking and diligent. And then – there's Slytherin, a home of the cunning and the resourceful."

"Is it true that you can't pick your own house?" Severus asked, staring at the pictures of the different banners and mascots. "Mum said they just put you wherever they feel like. I don't think I like that. I want to choose."

Flitwick seemed to be taken aback by his question, but only briefly.

"The Sorting Hat helps you choose your house," he said, "but I have it on good authority that the Hat can be reasoned with. It doesn't force – it only suggests."

Severus nodded, a bit relieved. "Well, good, because I don't think I like Slytherin." He didn't like the colours of the banner, the green was too much like that shirt he was wearing when he first woke up in Harry's home. And the snake... even looking at the picture of the snake felt horrible and scary for some reason. Besides, he didn't need a house to teach him to be cunning and resourceful, he reckoned he was doing fine on his own.

He saw that Flitwick and Harry exchanged a very long glance but didn't say anything.

"And what House do you think you'd like?" Flitwick asked.

Severus looked at all the different pictures. Eventually he poked the one with the lion on it. "Gryffindor," he said. "I want to be brave. I never want to be afraid of anything."

Flitwick nodded slowly, as if Severus' answer took him far, far away and he was in a world of its own now. Severus could swear he saw a small tear glisten in the corner of Flitwick's eye - probably from all the dust the book.

"I think you will do very well there," Flitwick said.

Encouraged by that, Severus glanced at Flitwick again. "Are you going to be teaching me Charms when I get to Hogwarts?"

Flitwick shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Severus. This is my last year at Hogwarts. I am resigning at the end of it – and someone else will take my place. I... just wanted to visit with you and deliver the letter, and see you before my teaching career concludes."

Severus bowed his head. He supposed it was understandable that Flitwick would be resigning – that's what old people did. But there was a note of sadness in Flitwick's voice and it made Severus hurt for him in a really strange way.

"It's too bad you won't be teaching me," he said and then glanced at Flitwick quizzically. "But you can teach me something right now, can't you? Can you teach me some spells?"

Flitwick's grin couldn't have been bigger. "I don't see why not."

He let Severus borrow his wand and told him a number of different spells – _Wingardium_ _Leviosa, Accio, Evanesco _and_ Scourgify_. Jumping off the chair, Flitwick demonstrated a proper posture for duels, planting his legs wide on the floor and showing how to keep one's balance.

"You're doing very well," Flitwick said again and again. "Finally, a young man holding the wand like a wizard, and not a baboon, brandishing a stick!"

Severus couldn't help but snicker at that. When the time came for him to return Flitwick's wand, it was hard to part with it. Still, he handed it over and then, glanced at Harry who was watching the two of them without saying a word.

"I want a wand of my own," Severus blurted out.

Harry nodded. "I'll get you one when you go to Hogwarts."

"I want one now!" Severus pleaded, dismayed by the prospect of waiting for six months. "Please, I want a wand right now!"

"Uh – you realize, you can't do magic outside of home," Harry pointed out.

"I won't, I swear it!" Severus cried out, his desperation building. "Please, get me a wand, and I will be so good! I'll never do anything bad, I promise!"

Harry gave him a long, uncertain look, clearly thinking it over. Severus froze, holding his breath. 

**o-o-o  
><strong>

It definitely wasn't a good idea to get Severus a wand of his own – Harry knew that. But – it was the first time that Severus had breached that long, horrible silence they've been living in since their conversation about Lily. And... it was the first time that Severus asked him for anything at all – and Harry knew that, if he said no, he might never get a chance like that again.

Severus stared at him pleadingly.

"Fine," Harry heard himself say, even as his common sense screamed in protest. "Tomorrow?"

Severus shook his head violently. "Today, please! Now!"

Harry let out a resigned sigh.

"Fine. Let's go," Harry said. _Before I have a chance to think about it and change my mind_, he added mentally. 

**o-o-o**

They walked through Diagon Alley together – the three of them. Flitwick led the way, marching confidently and quickly. Somehow, even with his tiny height he had a presence about him that made people duck out of his way. Harry and Severus trailed behind.

People in Diagon Alley were giving them curious looks. A lot of people smiled at Harry with fake smiles that Harry didn't return. Nobody smiled at Severus, but a few people stared at him knowingly and looked away. Severus had the distinct impression that everyone knew his story and how he ended up in the future, but nobody would tell him.

He breathed a sigh of relief when they finally found himself in Ollivander's, and the old man, even older than Flitwick himself, greeted them with a kindly smile.

"A wand for you, Severus?" he asked.

Severus almost cursed under his breath – so he was known here, too. He pushed the uncomfortable feeling aside and focused on his goal.

"Yes, please," he said in his best 'good boy' voice. "I'd like a wand."

It didn't take him long to choose one. It was as if Ollivander just magically knew what type of wand would favour Severus – handing him a really nice one, of ebony and dragon heartstring. Severus liked it instantly.

He spent the evening practicing the spells Flitwick had taught him. By the time Harry called him to dinner, Severus managed to use magic to clean up all the mess he'd made in the bedroom that morning. The Scourgify left a small hole in the duvet and some of the feathers came out, but he pushed them back in and flipped the duvet over, so that the hole wouldn't be noticed.

Over dinner, he and Harry finally talked. Severus asked questions about magic and different spells, and Harry answered in great detail, smiling from ear to ear. He even gave Severus a small book of different spells and he carried it off upstairs. Before the night rolled in, he could summon, levitate, and vanish things – as he discovered, after accidentally vanishing one of the pillows. Severus shrugged, unconcerned – there were two more left. He even managed to repair the crack in the window.

Feeling incredibly accomplished, Severus fell asleep with his new wand under his pillow. 

**To Be Continued ...**


End file.
